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LOVE 

INTRIGUES 

OF ROYAL 

COURTS 





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LOVE INTRIGUES 
OF 

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ROYAL COURTS 



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LOVE INTRIGUES 
OF ROYAL COURTS 



BY 



THORNTON HALL . 



ILLUSTRATED 



NEW YORK: DODD. MEAD & COMPANY 
LONDON: T. WERNER LAURIE 



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CONTENTS 



PAGE 



Chapter I. The Favourite of an Empress . i 

Chapter II. A Madcap Maid of Honour . . 23 

Chapter III. A Semi-royal Adventuress . . 36 

Chapter IV. The Tragedy of a Queen of Hearts 55 

Chapter V. A Crowned Madman ... 69 

Chapter VI. The Reincarnation of a Princess 85 

Chapter VII. The Romance and Mystery of Pamela 97 

Chapter VIII. A Low-born Princess of the Blood 109 

Chapter IX. Madame " Le Chevalier " . . 123 

Chapter X. The Secret of the Ile Sainte- 

Marguerite . . . . 142 

Chapter XI. The King and the Pretty Quakeress 153 

Chapter XII. A Royal Changeling . . .168 

Chapter XIII. The Flight of an Empress . . 186 

Chapter XIV. The Secret of the Iron Chest . 197 

Chapter XV. The Beautiful Pole and the 

Emperor . . . . .204 

Chapter XVI. A Palace Tragedy . . . .220 

Chapter XVII. The Cardinal's Niece . . . 233 

V 



vi CONTENTS 



PAQB 



Chapter XVIII. A Crown lost for Love . . 246 

Chapter XIX. The Mysterious Lady of Versailles 261 

Chapter XX. Prince or Peasant? . . .274 

Chapter XXI. The Mystery of the Lost Arch- 
duke 283 

Chapter XXII. The Queen of Court Beauties . 295 

Chapter XXIII. A Royal Mountebank . . . 307 

Chapter XXIV. A Queen without a Diadem . 324 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



Catherine II. the Great of Russia . Frontispiece 

From a Lithograph by N. Maurin. 

Prince Patiomkin .... To face page 4 
From a Mezzotint by James Walker. 

Louis II., King of Bavaria ... ,,70 

The Empress Eugenie . . . ,,186 

From a Painting by Winterhalter. 

Mrs Fitzherbert .... „ 324 



VI 1 



LOVE INTRIGUES OF 
ROYAL COURTS 

THE FAVOURITE OF AN EMPRESS 

Catherine, the Second, of Russia, one of the 
most splendid and the most inscrutable of all the 
great figures of the eighteenth century, had, says 
Masson, "two passions which only died with her — 
her love of man, which degenerated into libertinage, 
and her love of glory, which degenerated into 
vanity." For forty years, from the time when she 
blossomed into the ripe beauty of young woman- 
hood, to the verge of the grave, this remarkable 
and complex woman had an unbroken series of 
favourites, on whom in turn she lavished affection, 
wealth and power, and whom she changed as 
capriciously and lightly as she changed her gowns. 

Probably no woman who has ever lived has 
exhibited such a wide range of inconsistent char- 
acteristics. Voltaire, one of her most abject slaves, 
proclaimed her ''the only great man in Europe, 
though Frederick is living." " Her soul," he says, 
''comprehends all things, her mind might serve to 
measure all capacities. She is the instructor of the 
philosophers, more learned than all the academies. 
She is an angel before whom all men should be 
silent, and where she is, there is Paradise." 

And this supreme epitome of all the excellences, 



2 THE FAVOURITE OF AN EMPRESS 

whom Voltaire placed above Solon and Solomon, 
Lycurgus and Louis XIV., found her lifelong 
recreation from the cares of empire in flagrant 
amours and low pleasures, recking nothing, in her 
autocratic wilfulness, what the world thought of her 
and her doings. 

Seldom, too, has a woman been more richly 
dowered by nature for the conquest of man. Even 
as the girl-wife of the imbecile and brutal Peter 
she had few rivals in beauty in all Russia. Here 
is the charming picture she draws of herself, 
arrayed for a ball. *' I put up my hair, which was 
very long and thick and beautiful, at the back of 
my head, and tied it with a white ribbon, en queue 
de Renard. I set one rose with its buds and 
leaves, exact imitation of nature, in my hair, and 
another in my corsage. A ruff of very white gauze 
was about my neck, and I wore cuffs and aprons 
of the same gauze. My bodice was of white gros 
de Tours silk (I had a very good figure at that 
time), with a petticoat of the same over a very 
small hoop. ... I never in my life remember 
having been so complimented by all as on that 
occasion. I was said to be as beautiful as the 
day and absolutely dazzling." 

Such is Catherine's own naive description of 
herself as she stood on the threshold of woman- 
hood. How her beauty ripened in later years is 
shown in Poniatowski's description of his Imperial 
mistress at the age of twenty-five. " Her beauty 
had reached that point which is usually for every 
woman the highest she attains. With her black 
hair, she had a dazzling whiteness of skin, a vivid 
colour, large blue eyes prominent and eloquent, 



THE FAVOURITE OF AN EMPRESS 3 

black and long eyebrows, a Greek nose, a mouth 
that looked made for kissing, a slight rather tall 
figure, a carriage that was lively, yet full of nobility, 
a pleasing voice and a laugh as merry as the 
humour through which she could with ease pass 
from the most playful and childish amusements to 
the most fatiguing mathematical calculation." 

To complete the catalogue of her physical 
charms. ''Her hands," says Voltaire, ''are the 
loveliest in the world ; her feet are whiter than the 
snow which is seen in her country." Such was 
Catherine the Great in the full bloom of her love- 
liness, which she retained in a surprising degree, 
in spite of growing stoutness, until her tragically 
sudden death, on the verge of seventy. 

That such an Empress of beauty and personal 
charm should have the hearts of Europe at her 
feet is little to marvel at. Her ears were full of 
flattery ; she lived in a world of adulation, almost 
idolatry, calculated to turn the most evenly-balanced 
head. But that from her crowd of worshippers she 
should single one after another for special favour, 
proclaimed in the face of the world, is as much a 
perplexity to-day as it was more than a century 
ago. 

Of all Catherine s favourites one stands out from 
the rest as supreme in fascination, as he was in 
power over his Imperial mistress. Various stories 
are told of how Patiomkin first came under the 
notice and into the favour of the man-loving 
Empress ; but the most authentic is probably that 
given by Waliszewski, to whose delightful books 
on Catherine the writer is largely indebted. 

When Catherine was reviewing her troops after 



4 THE FAVOURITE OF AN EMPRESS 

the coup (Tdtat which rid her of her worthless 
husband and placed the reins of empire in her 
hands, a young soldier, noticing that her sword- 
knot was lacking, rode up and gallantly offered 
his own, an act of chivalry which won for him an 
intoxicating smile of thanks. The young soldier, 
who thus dramatically came into Catherine's life 
and who was destined to play such a conspicuous 
part in the drama of her future and that of Russia, 
was an obscure cavalry sergeant named Patiomkin, 
who had been dismissed from Moscow University, 
where he was training for the Church, for idleness 
and consistent neglect of his '' classes," and who 
had drifted into the army, where he had earned an 
unenviable character for "dissoluteness of manners 
and depravity of mind." 

It is probable, however, that both the incident 
and its hero would have been forgotten by Catherine 
had she not, in search of distraction, chanced to 
hear of a certain soldier who had remarkable gifts 
of mimicry and was altogether a most entertaining 
fellow. Her curiosity was roused ; the man was 
summoned to Court, and was immediately recog- 
nised as the Raleigh of the Review day. His 
mimicry and odd antics — especially his daring and 
clever imitations of herself — made Catherine lauorh 

o 

until the tears streamed down her cheeks ; and 
Patiomkin's fortune was made. She adopted him 
as her protdgd — he was only a boy of seventeen at 
the time — made a lieutenant of him, had him taught 
French and the workings of one of the bureaus of 
the Senate, and generally took his future into her 
keeping. 

At this time Catherine had for favourite Gregory 



THE FAVOURITE OF AN EMPRESS 5 

Orloff, probably the tallest and certainly the hand- 
somest man in Russia, and Patiomkin's reign was 
still in the future. Years elapsed, the cavalry 
sergeant had seen much service in the army, had 
blossomed into a lieutenant-general, and in his 
despair of ever winning Catherine's more intimate 
favour had even thought seriously of turning monk, 
when one day in 1773 he received from her a letter, 
the significance of which he could not fail to see. 
After showing marked interest in his campaign, 
and expressing anxiety for his personal safety, her 
letter concluded : ** In reading this you will perhaps 
ask why it was written. I can only say — that it 
may confirm to you my way of thinking in regard 
to you, for I always wish you every good." 

There could be little doubt of Catherine's thinly 
veiled meaning. Gregory Orloff, so long unas- 
sailable in his position of favourite, had been 
dethroned by his own disloyalty ; she had wearied 
of Vassiltshikof, his successor, and now she turned 
to the young soldier whose gallantry and amusing 
tricks had brought him to her notice eleven years 
or so earlier. Patiomkin went post-haste to St 
Petersburg ; Vassiltshikof was packed off to 
Moscow ; and the ex-sergeant reigned in his stead. 

When Grimm timidly ventured to reproach 
Catherine for this latest exhibition of her fickleness, 
she retorted, " Why ? I suppose, because I have 
dropped a certain excellent but very tiresome 
citizen, who has been immediately replaced, I 
scarcely know how, by one of the greatest, oddest, 
and most amusing originalities of this iron age. . . . 
Ah ! what a clever head he has, too," she continues, 
**he is as amusing as the very devil." There is 



6 THE FAVOUEITE OF AN EMPRESS 

small evidence here that Catherine's heart was 
intimately concerned in this change of favourites, 
which seems to have been dictated rather by the 
wish to know more of the odd character who had 
retained her interest and stimulated her curiosity 
all these years. 

If we are to believe contemporary reports, seldom 
has there been a greater contrast than between 
this supremely beautiful Empress and the man 
she now chose to honour above his fellows. Of 
enormous stature (Catherine seems to have had a 
passion for big men), he had an unwieldy figure 
and knock-knees. He was swarthy of skin, coarse 
in feature, and he had lost one eye, a catastrophe 
of which the following story is told. 

One day, while playing billiards with Alexis 
Orloff, a man of huge stature and strength, and 
one of Catherine's discarded lovers, he made some 
unfortunate remark which roused Orloffs inflam- 
mable temper. A quarrel ensued, and the giant 
dealt Patiomkin a crushing blow, which effectually 
destroyed the sight of one of his eyes. This 
disfigurement, which might well have ruined Pati- 
omkin's hopes of Catherine's favour, was indeed a 
factor in securing it ; for he contrived to let her 
know that he had lost his sight in defending her 
fair fame, a circumstance which made a powerful 
appeal to Catherine's sense of chivalry. 

Such in outward appearance was Patiomkin, 
lover-elect of the most beautiful sovereign lady in 
Europe. " Dreadful and repulsive," was the de- 
scription of one who knew him ; and indeed 
Patiomkin was so conscious of his lack of physical 
beauty that for many a year nothing would induce 



THE FAVOURITE OF AN EMPRESS 7 

him to have his portrait painted ; and it was only 
at the pleading of the Empress that he at last con- 
sented to sit for the portrait which may be seen 
to-day in the Winter Palace of St Petersburg — a 
flattering presentment which certainly does not 
support contemporary description. 

But, unattractive as the man was physically, his 
habits were still less pleasant. "His merriment is 
boisterous," says a chronicler, ''and he has also the 
habit of biting his nails and scratching his untidy 
head. He often passes whole days in his room, 
half-dressed, uncombed, unwashed, biting his nails. 
A great eater and drinker, but swallowing without 
apparent distinction the most delicate and elaborate 
dishes, he has always at hand, even on his night- 
table, a supply of pirojki (little pasties), and drains 
down bottles of kuass by the dozen. 

" When he is travelling, he lives on garlic and 
black bread, but at St Petersburg, at Kief or at 
J assy, his table is served with the most recherchd 
dishes of all countries, oysters, and sterlets, figs 
from Provence and water-melons from Astrakhan, 
When he is not in full court-dress, he generally 
wears a large dressing-gown, in which he even re- 
ceives ladies, and, in the country, gives audience 
and presides at official dinners. Under this full 
and easy garment he wears neither trousers nor 
drawers. 

" When he is not bare-legged in his dressing- 
gown he is seen in clothes embroidered with gold 
on all seams, covered with diamonds, and constel- 
lated with badges. He invents for his own use 
extravagant uniforms, astounding trappings for 
horses, plumes as high as the roof." 



8 THE FAVOURITE OF AN EMPRESS 

What was the secret of the ascendancy of this 
grotesque creature over one of the cleverest women 
in Europe? ''In his youth," says Segur, *' he 
pleased her by the ardour of his passion ; at a more 
advanced period of his life he continued to charm her 
by flattering her pride, by calming her apprehensive- 
ness, by caressing her dreams of Oriental Empire." 

Whatever the reason was it is quite certain that 
this repulsive ex-sergeant and buffoon quickly ac- 
quired an absolute ascendancy over the Empress, 
who became his humble slave. '' She is quite 
crazy over him," says Durand, as indeed is clearly 
proved by her passionate letters, in which she 
addresses him as " My Soul," '' My King," '* My in- 
estimable Treasure." And this ardour was, until 
he had made sure of his victim, reciprocated by 
Patiomkin, whose letters are like the ravings of 
a lovesick boy. " When first I beheld thee," he 
writes, **my thoughts were only of thee. Thy 
glorious eyes made me captive, yet I trembled to 
breathe my love. Ye cruel gods! why did you 
dower her with such witchery, or why did you so 
exalt her beyond my reach ? Why did you destine 
me to love her, and only her, whose sacred name 
will never pass my lips, whose charming image will 
never quit my heart ? " 

If he smiled she was transported to heaven ; his 
frowns drove her to despair and tears. His very 
callousness and brutality in later days served but 
to fan the flame of her infatuation. Once, when 
sitting at the table with her, he not only refused to 
speak, but even to answer her questions. '' She 
was beside herself," says one who was present; 
**and we, for our part, were very much put out of 



THE FAVOURITE OF AN EMPRESS 9 

countenance. On rising from table the Empress 
retired alone, and reappeared with red eyes and 
a troubled air." So little respect in fact did he 
show his royal mistress that he thought nothing 
of appearing in her presence unwashed, unkempt, 
with bare legs and loose dressing-gown — a breach 
of elementary decorum which she never dared resent. 

Thus secure of his mistress's favour, he lost no 
time in makinof her infatuation minister to his 
advancement. The highest honours were showered 
on him. He became dictator of the home and 
foreign policy of the empire, head of the army, 
Grand Admiral of the Fleet, and virtual Emperor. 
All the titles Catherine had at her disposal were 
his without the asking ; she gave him palaces, vast 
estates, and millions of roubles ; his uniforms blazed 
with the most coveted decorations; Joseph II. pro- 
cured for him a Princeship of the Holy Roman 
Empire ; and the Empress gave him a portrait of 
herself framed in diamonds, a distinction which only 
one other man — Gregory Orloff — had ever enjoyed. 
Thus within two brief years the quondam trooper 
was raised to a higher pinnacle of favour, wealth 
and dignities than any other man in Europe — the 
tribute of an adoring woman to a brutal, ill-favoured 
lover. 

But his insatiable ambition was far from satisfied. 
He was already an emperor in power, why should 
he not be emperor in name, as the avowed husband 
of the lady whose heart was his subject ? 

The opportunity for this crowning and crucial 
cast of the die came when Catherine set out on a 
pilgrimage to the monastery of Troitza to atone for 
her shortcomings by a few weeks' fasting and piety. 



10 THE FAVOURITE OF AN EMPRESS 

Patiomkin accompanied her and chose this time of 
chastening for the gravid coup which was to make 
him Tsar — to replace the role of lover by that of 
husband. Casting aside his brilliant uniform he 
attired himself as a monk, chanted psalms before 
day dawned and was singing vespers when the sun 
set. One day, when he considered the time was 
ripe, he presented himself before the Empress, his 
tall gaunt figure worn from fasts, and bent with 
remorse, and clad in the garb of a monk, and an- 
nounced to her that he had decided to abandon 
the pomps and vanities of the world to seek peace in 
the cloister. To his dismay Catherine, instead of im- 
ploring him to reconsider his decision and offering 
him her hand, approved of his project ; assured him 
that he was acting wisely in seeking the salvation 
of his soul — and promptly returned to Court, leav- 
ing him secretly raging at his discomfiture. 

Three weeks later she was amazed to see the 
penitent monk, in his finest feathers, stalk into the 
room where she was playing cards with her ladies 
and coolly take a seat at her table. Fixing his 
eyes on the surprised Empress he stretched forth 
one hand and cut the cards, showing her that which 
he had turned up. "You were always lucky," was 
her only comment, as she began to deal. And thus, 
with scarcely a word spoken, Patiomkin restored 
himself to his old position of power. 

The lesson, however, was not lost on the astute 
and far-seeing Prince. It showed him that his 
tenure of the Empress's inconsistent heart was by 
no means as secure and permanent as he had im- 
magined. She had wearied of many a former lover 
far more attractive than himself He could after 



THE FAVOURITE OF AN EMPRESS 11 

all scarcely hope to escape their fate. Already 
Catherine's eyes had looked with favour on Zava- 
dofsky, a handsome young secretary whom she had 
taken into her service, and who, he grew convinced, 
was destined to be his successor. The crisis was 
precipitated sooner than he expected. He absented 
himself for a few weeks' tour of inspection in the 
province of Novgorod ; and returned to find his 
youthful rival installed in his place. 

Patiomkin stormed and raved at his dismissal, 
drove Catherine into hysterics by his tempestuous 
rage, and effectually frightened her into confirming 
him in his power and dignities while depriving him 
of her affection. And this was all he cared for. 
Let anyone who would be lover, so long as he could 
be Emperor ; and when this point was once gained 
he became once more the silver-tongued courtier 
and the ambassador of Catherine's passions, finding 
as much pleasure in providing for her a succession 
of lovers as in playing the insecure role himself. 

More than he had lost in Catherine's affection he 
now gained in power and influence over her ; and, 
curiously enough, he became in form, if no longer in 
fact, her adorer more than ever. When away on 
campaign he wrote to her such messages as these : 
*' This is what it is to write at a thousand versts 
apart ! My joyous soul would but express to you, 
for an instant, its desire to set you free of the 
one single thing which could lessen the greatness of 
yours." *' Merciful mother ! you have already poured 
upon me all the gifts which you have to give, and I 
still am alive ; but this life, august sovereign, shall 
ever be, believe me, ever and always, a sacrifice in 
your service and against your enemies." 



12 THE FAVOURITE OF AN EMPRESS 

And Catherine's replies were in a similar strain 
of romantic devotion, as when she wrote, *' There 
is nothing sweet, my friend, that I would not say to 
you." 

Thus secure in her friendship, which was ever 
far more constant than her love, Patiomkin gave 
full play to his passion for power and for extrava- 
gance, and to his indulgence in the pleasures, many 
of them base, of life ; while his eccentricities, which 
verged on madness, became more marked than 
ever. While he was ostensibly conducting the war 
against Turkey, he spent most of his time, Langeron 
says, " in polishing his diamonds, and sending 
bouquets and presents to the object of his love and 
the other ladies of the court. He made his 
triumphal progress with a retinue of five or six 
hundred servants, two hundred musicians, a corps 
de ballet, a troupe of mimes, a hundred embroiderers 
and twenty jewellers." 

Even more remarkable than his love of display 
were his varied and conflicting moods, which seem 
to suggest a mind unhinged. "Within a single 
hour," we are told, *'he will be gay, sad, playful, 
pensive, caressing, storming, welcoming amiably, 
repulsing rudely, giving an order and revoking it." 
At one time when a battle was raging he would 
hide in a cellar and shut his ears against the roar 
of the cannon ; at another he would stand without 
a tremor in the trenches while the death-dealing 
bullets whistled past his ears. 

Emancipated from Catherine's exacting affection 
he gave full rein to his passion for fair women, and 
revelled in the luxurious life of a sultan — even on 
the borders of battlefields. '' On a divan of pink 



THE FAVOURITE OF AN EMPRESS 13 

and silver stuff," to quote Langeron again, ''fringed 
and ornamented with flowers and ribbons, the 
prince was seated in a negligd as gallant as it was 
recherchd by the side of the object of his vows, and 
surrounded by five or six women whose beauty 
was increased by the beauty of their garb, and 
before whom burned perfumes in golden dishes. A 
collation, served in silver-gilt vessels, occupied the 
centre of the room." The queen of the moment 
was Princess Dolgornki, wife of one of his officers, 
as were many of her fair if frail successors in 
Patiomkin's affections. 

Balls and suppers, on a scale of regal splendour, 
followed each other in endless succession. Patiom- 
kin took his pleasure thus while his armies fought 
and fell to add fresh laurels to his crown ; and such 
time as he could spare from these dissipations he 
spent at the house of one or the other of his 
favourites, the wives of officers absent on duty. 
** There," to quote an eye-witness, "given over 
entirely to his loves, a regular Sultan in the midst 
of his harem, he refuses to see anyone but a certain 
number of his flatterers. The rooms (in the house 
of the Countess Galvin) are divided into two ; in 
the first are the men about the gaming-tables ; in 
the second the prince on a divan with the ladies." 

Catherine, always tolerant in such matters, so far 
from feeling annoyance at Patiomkin's scandalous 
love affairs, appears to have viewed them with 
sympathy and interest. As Waliszewski says, ''M 
he concerns himself with her pleasures and even 
her amours, she returns him the compliment. The 
detail is certainly repulsive ; it has, however, its 
place in the idiosyncrasy of those two exceptional 



14 THE FAVOURITE OF AN EMPRESS 

beings, and in the history of the extraordinary 
relation which bound them together for twenty 
years, even after the most intimate Hnk between 
them had been broken." 

Even when Patiomkin transferred his affection 
in turn to each of his five nieces, her own ladies in 
waiting, Catherine, intent no doubt on her own 
kindred pleasures, raised no objection. This 
episode is perhaps the most remarkable and most 
reprehensible in Patiomkin's abnormal career. The 
letters addressed to his sister's daughters, first to 
Barbe, and in turn to her four sisters, are couched 
in the unrestrained language of youthful passion. 
To Barbe he writes thus : ** If I love you to in- 
finity, if my soul has no other support, do you 
know what all that means ? Can I believe you 
when you promise to love me for ever ? I love 
you, O my soul, as I have never loved. . . . Varinka, 
my life, my beauty, my divinity, say that you love 
me, that will be enough to restore to me health and 
gaiety, peace and happiness. My soul, I am filled 
with you, all of you, my beauty ! Farewell, I em- 
brace you all over." And this heat of adoration is 
reflected in Varinka's (Varinka seems to have been 
a pet name for Barbe) replies. " My love, my life," 
she writes to her uncle, then ill in bed, " I am very 
anxious about you. In God's name, my life, write 
to me. I embrace you a million times." 

A little later, when Patiomkin is well again, we 
find him unburdening himself thus, '' Little mother, 
Varinka, my soul, my life, you have slept, little 
silly, and you remember nothing. In leaving you, 
I put you to bed, and I kissed you many times 
over. I covered you with your dressing-gown and 




PRINCE PATIOMKIN. 

(From a mezzotint by James Walker.) 



THE FAVOURITE OF AN EMPRESS 15 

a rug and I marked you with the sign of the 
Cross." 

When Patiomkin was penning these too tender 
lines, the old reprobate had in his pocket a letter 
from another of his many lady-loves, one of the 
great ladies of the Court, which opens thus : ** How 
have you passed the night, my dear ? Better than 
me, I hope. I could not so much as close my eyes, 
I assure you. I do not know how my thought of 
you is the only one that absorbs me " ; and closes : 
'* you are so good to me ; you seem to love me 
with all your heart. Good-bye ; I leave you ; I am 
expecting my husband." 

When Patiomkin grew weary of his nieces, it 
was Prascovia Zakrievska, a cousin by marriage, 
who next inflamed his heart, and to her he pours 
forth the ever-ready lava of his love. *' Come, O 
my mistress," he appeals to her. '' Hasten, O my 
friend, my priceless treasure, incomparable gift of 
the Deity. I exist only in you, and I will spend 
my whole life in proving to you for ever and ever 
my boundless love. I kiss with all my heart your 
pretty little hands and your pretty little feet. . . . 
Dear darling, do not think that it is your beauty 
alone which enchants me, and that my love is lit by 
vulgar heats alone. In looking into your soul I 
have found an angel, an angel made after the like- 
ness of my own soul ; so you and I are one, and 
never can be parted." 

And so it was to the end with this pampered 
slave of his passions, satyrlike in the pursuit of 
fresh victims, and transferring his affections from 
one to another with a rapidity which made Catherine 
herself, in comparison, seem a model of constancy. 



16 THE FAVOURITE OF AN EMPRESS 

Was he happy, this ** spoilt child of the gods," as he 
called himself, who drained to their dregs the cups 
of pleasure and power? ''All my wishes, all my 
desires," he once said, '* have been carried out as if 
by magic. I wanted to have the charge of great 
affairs — I have it ; orders — I have them all ; I am 
fond of gambling — I can afford to lose incalculable 
sums ; I like to give fetes — I have given superb 
ones ; I like to buy lands — I have as many as I 
want ; I like to build houses — I have built palaces ; 
I like precious stones — no private person has finer 
and rarer ones. In a word, I am overwhelmed with 
favours." As he utters these last words, he seizes 
a porcelain plate, and dashes it to the ground ; then 
he rushes into his bedroom and fastens the door 
behind him. 

Even Catherine herself, Empress though she 
was, could not emulate the splendours of her chief 
subject. His palaces were filled with the costliest 
treasures of painting, sculpture and furnishings 
brought from all parts of the earth ; while his jewels 
were unrivalled throughout the world. His fav- 
ourite pastime was to pile these countless gems 
in glittering heaps on a table and arrange them in 
fantastic designs ; or he would pour them in flaming 
many-coloured cataracts from one hand to the other, 
laughing with childish delight over his glittering 
toys. One day he grew suddenly weary of his 
jewels and sold them ; only to purchase them back 
a few days later at double the price he had received 
for them. So great were his riches that even he 
had no idea of their amount. One enormous room 
in one of his palaces was lined with thousands of 
dummy volumes, each of which had its hollow 



THE FAVOURITE OF AN EMPRESS 17 

interior stuffed with rouleaux of imperials and ducats, 
representing a large fortune. 

Probably the crowning triumph of Patiomkin's 
life was his ** stage management" of that remark- 
able journey of Catherine to the Crimea, in 1787, 
to see with her own eyes the star which her former 
favourite had added to her Imperial crown. Never 
in history was a progress more regally splendid ; 
never was a sovereign lady so successfully befooled. 

Part of the long journey of 2000 kilometres the 
Empress made in an enormous and sumptuous 
sleigh drawn by thirty horses ; and part with an 
escort of eighty ships and 3000 soldiers. At every 
stopping-place she found a regally equipped house 
ready for her reception ; and everywhere along 
her route her eyes were feasted with the sight 
of picturesque villages, peopled by a happy and 
prosperous peasantry, vast stretches of prairie- 
land dotted with sheep and goats, dancing maidens 
and piping shepherds — all arranged by the magic- 
working hand of Patiomkin to convert the wilderness 
into a land of promise and plenty for the delight of 
his unsuspecting mistress. As her galley proudly 
floated past the banks of the Dnieper on its way to 
the Black Sea, heralding a stately escort of eighty 
vessels, each with its band of melody-makers, 
** there appeared," says Segur, "on the banks of 
the river curious and admiring crowds to gaze at 
the splendid retinue and to present to their Sove- 
reign the products of their various climes. 

''On the plains Cossacks manoeuvred, while here 
and there stood triumphal arches ; and garlands and 
architectural decorations beautified villages, houses 
and cottages until they were transformed into 



18 THE FAVOURITE OF AN EMPRESS 

superb cities and palaces." Wherever the fleet 
came to an anchorage there was the same evidence 
of abounding prosperity, crowds of happy, cheering 
peasants, flocks and herds, smiling villages, dancing 
and song. To Catherine the journey was one long 
delight and surprise ; and if she suspected the hand 
of Patiomkin in it at all, she never revealed the 
least trace of her suspicion. 

The Prince himself travelled in a style even more 
splendid than that of the Empress, for, we are told, 
"his suite included six hundred servants, a corps de 
ballet, two hundred musicians, a crowd of sycophants 
and a seraglio of ladies, chiefly composed of the wives 
of his marshals and colonels." On his return from 
this expedition he was received with a pomp and 
splendour such as no European sovereign could equal. 
Catherine presented him with 100,000 roubles, a 
uniform blazing with diamonds, and a palace fur- 
nished at a cost of 600,000 roubles — presents, regal 
as they were, which were but paltry to this spoilt 
child of fortune. It is said that on this journey 
Patiomkin lavished 7,000,000 roubles. Even if 
this were so, it represented but a small return of 
the 100,000,000 he is credited with having re- 
ceived from the bounty of Catherine. 

Patiomkin's star, which had blazed so brilliantly 
for twenty years in the firmament of Russia and of 
Europe, was now soon destined to eclipse, although 
to all appearance it promised to shine with equal 
splendour for many a long year to come. In such 
abounding vigour seemed this roui of fifty-two in 
the spring of 1791 that Catherine writes to the 
Prince de Eigne, "To see Prince Marshal Patiom- 
kin one would say that victories and successes 



THE FAVOURITE OF AN EMPRESS 19 

absolutely beautified him. He has returned from 
the army as handsome as day " (to Catherine he 
was always handsome, with, it may be, la beautd du 
(liable), **as gay as a lark, as brilliant as a star, 
wittier than ever, not biting his nails any more, 
giving fetes, every one more gorgeous than the 
last." 

It was at one of these fetes, more prodigally 
splendid than any he had ever given before, that 
Catherine saw h^r prot^g^ for the last time. Never 
was queen more v^gdlXy fited than she by her ex- 
lover, on this last occasion of their meeting, in the 
magnificent Tauric Palace, the latest of her many 
presents to him. " All the splendours which the 
Prince has at his command, all the enchantments 
which he has ever wielded, are brought together 
and surpassed. It is no longer as a sovereign, it 
is as a goddess that Catherine is welcomed to the 
palace of the Taurida." 

Patiomkin received his Imperial mistress in all the 
splendours of scarlet and gold and the blaze of pre- 
cious stones. Three hundred musicians discoursed 
sweet music ; in the masquerade ballet all the 
greatest men and fairest women in Russia moved and 
glittered, in a kaleidoscope of gorgeous costumes ; a 
brilliant theatrical display followed, concluded with 
a wonderful Asiatic procession. The supper-tables 
groaned under their burden of gold and silver plate, 
the rarest wines flowed like water, and everywhere 
were evidences of wealth such as scarcely a royal 
palace in Europe could rival. It was Patiomkin's 
last triumph — the splendid climax of his dazzling 
career. 

Never had Catherine exhibited such emotion as 



20 THE FAVOURITE OF AN EMPRESS 

this noble evidence of her favourite's loyalty excited 
in her. She lingered to the last, loth to leave the 
fairyland the Prince had created for her delight. 
When at last she rose to depart, the swelling music 
of a hymn specially composed in her honour broke 
down the last barriers of restraint, and, as she 
turned to bid her host *' good-bye," the tears poured 
down her cheeks. Nor was Patiomkin less affected. 
** Overpowered by the strong feeling of what he 
owed to Her Majesty, he fell on his knee and seiz- 
ing her hand, bedewed it with tears." Such were 
the pathetic circumstances under which these two 
people, whose lives had been so intimately linked, 
unconsciously said their last farewell to each 
other. 

A few days later Patiomkin set out on a visit to 
the Southern Provinces — and to his death, which 
came with tragic suddenness. At Jassy he was 
seized by the illness which, though he little dreamt 
it, was so soon to prove fatal. In spite of his 
doctor's warnings and entreaties he persisted in 
keeping his windows wide open — it was in the 
depth of winter. '' He poured eau-de-Cologne over 
his head in quantities, and breakfasted on Hamburg 
ham, raw turnips, salted goose and hung beef, 
washed down by enormous quantities of wines and 
liqueurs." 

** I saw him during the attack of fever," records 
Langeron, ''devour a ham, a salted goose and three 
or four fowls, and drink kvass, klukva, hydromel, 
and all kinds of wines." So impatient was he to 
continue his journey that, although his life was 
hanging in the balance, he insisted on leaving Jassy 
and travelling to Nikolaief ; but he had not covered 



THE FAVOURITE OF AN EMPRESS 21 

many leagues before a violent fit of choking seized 
him. He was lifted out of the carriage ; laid on 
the grass ; and, a few minutes later, gasped out his 
life, his head pillowed on the lap of his niece. Prin- 
cess Branitsky. Thus perished by the roadside in 
the darkness of an October morning, in 1791, the 
Prince who for a score of years had been one of 
the most powerful and dazzling figures in Europe, 
the virtual ruler of a mighty empire. 

When the news of his death reached Catherine 
*' she lost consciousness, the blood ran to her head 
and she was obliged to be bled," writes Genet, the 
French chargd d'affaires. She was inconsolable 
and spent days and nights in solitary weeping, 
refusing to see anyone. In her grief she wrote 
to Grimm : ** A rude and terrible blow struck me 
yesterday. My pupil, my friend, my almost idol 
Prince Patiomkin, of the Taurida, is dead . . . oh, 
heavens ! it is now that I need to be Madame la 
Ressource ! Again I shall have to raise up people 
for my service." 

Three months after his body had been laid in 
the Church of St Catherine at Kherson, Count 
Rastoptshin wrote of him : '* He is already entirely 
forgotten. The generations to come will not bless 
his memory. He possessed in the highest degree 
the art of doing evil with good, and of rousing 
hatred in those on whom he was heaping care- 
less favours. ... His last weakness was to fall 
in love with every woman he saw and pass for 
mauvais sujet. This desire, foolish as it was, had 
an immense success. The women ran after the 
favour of the Prince as the men ran after him for 
the posts at his disposal." 



22 THE FAVOURITE OF AN EMPRESS 

A few years later, at the bidding of the Emperor 
Paul, son of the Empress whose ''idol" he had so 
long been, the mausoleum which was his last stately 
resting-place was destroyed, and the ashes it covered 
were scattered to the winds. 



A MADCAP MAID OF HONOUR 

** Nature had embellished her with inexpressible 
charms, to which the graces had put the finishing 
touches ; her figure was radiant as that of Aurora 
or of the Goddess of Spring." Such was the poetic 
description by Count Hamilton of the physical 
charms of Frances Jennings, who played such a 
romantic part on the world's stage in the days of 
the ** Merrie Monarch," and whose end was as 
obscure as her zenith had been dazzling. 

When Frances Jennings first opened her eyes 
on the world at Sandridge, near St Albans, one 
day in the year 1648, she seemed as far removed 
from the splendour of courts and the idolatry of 
princes as from the heavens. Her father was 
Richard Jennings, a plain country gentleman of 
bucolic tastes, who expected nothing from his 
daughters more than that they should mate with 
country squires like himself and spend their days 
in rearing healthy children and playing the role of 
good housewives ; little dreaming, or probably caring, 
that they would one day wear ducal coronets and 
move in the circle of the throne itself. 

But there was that in the blood of these rustic 
maidens which raised their ambition far higher 
than their cradle. Although, among their Jennings 
ancestors, there had been none more distinguished 
than their grandfather. Sir John, whom the first 
Charles had dubbed a knight and who had served 
23 



24 A MADCAP MAID OF HONOUR 

as High Sheriff of his native Hertfordshire, on the 
distaff side they came from a long Hne of fair and 
gently-born women whose beauty had for genera- 
tions been a tradition and a toast ; and this beauty, 
a richer dower than wealth or rank, they inherited 
in liberal measure. 

Even as children, their loveliness and winsome- 
ness were the talk of all the countryside ; and as 
the bud opened into the flower of girlhood, every 
year added some new touch of beauty and fra- 
grance to their charms, until their fame travelled 
over England and to the Court itself. It was thus 
little wonder, when the Duchess of York determined 
to surround herself with maids of honour who 
should be the most beautiful in any court of Europe, 
that Frances Jennings, the fairer of the two lovely 
sisters, should be summoned to Court and should 
be chosen as one of the new galaxy of beauty. 
Thus it was that, as a girl of sixteen, Frances found 
herself transported from the rustic environment in 
which her loveliness had hitherto been set, to the 
splendours and temptations of Whitehall. It was 
a dazzling transformation for one so quietly and 
obscurely brought up ; for, at her coming, she was 
hailed as a new and wonderful revelation of female 
beauty. She became, by a bound, the sensation of 
the town, the toast of every lordly gallant, and the 
idol of the populace, who followed her in admiring 
crowds whenever she appeared in the parks or 
streets ; and, more than this, at the first sight of 
her, the Duke of York and his brother, the King, 
proclaimed themselves her slaves. 

The Duke, in particular, lost his heart hopelessly 
to his wife's new maid of honour, and persecuted 



A MADCAP MAID OF HONOUR 25 

her with his unwelcome, if flattering, attentions, 
which Frances, who was in no mood to become the 
light-o'-love of any man, even a royal prince, treated 
with a tantalising indifference. When *' ogling 
speeches and embassies " failed to win her smiles 
he made his pen the vehicle of his passion. ** Every 
day," we are told, ** notes containing the tenderest 
expressions and most magnificent promises, were 
slipped into her pockets or muff. This, however, 
could not be done unperceived, and the malicious 
little creature took care that those who saw them 
slip in should likewise see them fall out unopened. 
She had only to shake her muff or pull out her 
handkerchief as soon as his back was turned, and 
his notes rained about her for anyone to pick up 
who chose. 

** The Duchess was frequently a witness of this 
conduct, but could not find it in her heart to chide 
her maid of honour for want of respect to the Duke. 
Thus the charm and virtue of Miss Jennings were 
the only subjects of conversation in the two Courts; 
people could not understand how a young creature 
fresh from the country should so soon become the 
ornament of the Court by her attractions, and its 
example by her conduct." 

This invincible modesty was, however, part of 
Frances Jennings' programme. She was no Lady 
Shrewsbury to stake virtue in the gamble of ambi- 
tion, even when the heir to the throne was so 
passionately eager to pay any price for it. With 
her beauty she meant to win both rank and riches ; 
but none, she vowed, should ever possess it who 
could not call her **wife." And when the royal 
James at last realised how unattainable was the 



26 A MADCAP MAID OF HONOUR 

prize he coveted, he found a more willing solace 
in Arabella, the fair sister of John Churchill, the 
future Duke of Marlborough. But this escape by- 
no means ended Frances' danger ; for where his 
brother failed. King Charles himself determined 
to succeed. What might have been the conse- 
quences of this wooing of the country maid by 
one of the most charming, witty and adroit lovers 
in England, and that lover the Sovereign of the 
Realm, it is impossible even to speculate ; but 
fortunately for Frances the royal wooing was cut 
short by Miss Stuart, the lovely Scotswoman who 
held the first place in the King's affection, and 
who would have none of it. 

Thus secure at last from royal persecution the 
Court beauty was left free to play her own little 
game of conquest, and to pick and choose among 
her noble lovers, whose name, as may be imagined, 
was ** legion." The youthful Marquis de Berny, 
son of one of Louis XV. 's chief ministers, was 
for a time first in her rather fickle favour. "Your 
son's declaration," wrote the French Ambassador 
to the youth's father, '' has been well received by 
one of the finest girls in England — Miss Jennings 
of the household of the Duke of York. She is 
small, but with a fine figure, a splendid com- 
plexion, the hair such as you remember Madame 
de Longueville's was, brilliant, keen eyes, and the 
whitest, smoothest skin I ever saw." But the 
Marquis's dream of happiness was cut ruthlessly 
short ; for his father, who had other and higher 
designs for his son's matrimonial future, promptly 
ordered him to come home, and thus ignominiously 
ended the maid of honour's first love affair. 



A MADCAP MAID OF HONOUR 27 

But whatever regrets Frances may have had 
for her little romance thus rudely destroyed in the 
bud, they were soon dissipated by the arrival on 
the scene of a much more attractive lover — none 
other than the gay, gallant, dashing Dick Talbot, 
the handsomest man in all his native Ireland, and 
out of it, the hero of a thousand adventures and 
a hundred brushes with death. Never had Nature 
modelled a man more calculated to take a maiden's 
heart by storm than this young Irishman, for in 
addition to his handsome face and his magnificent 
figure, ** which was the model for statuaries," and 
the halo of romance with which his adventurous life 
surrounded him, he had a rare wit, and a singular 
fascination of manner, and ardour of passion. 

To such a combination of assaults the citadel 
of Frances' heart could not long offer resistance ; 
and it was soon announced that the Admirable 
Crichton was betrothed to **the prettiest girl in 
England," with the approval of the Duchess of 
York. But Talbot, as fiancd, proved too exacting 
an autocrat to please the wayward fancy of the 
maid of honour, and almost before he could realise 
his good fortune he was told to go elsewhere to 
seek a lady more submissive. 

Frances had not long to languish for an eligible 
successor ; for she soon had Henry Jermyn, the 
most famous beau in England, and the owner, 
to boot, of ;^20,ooo a year, at her dainty feet ; 
and there is little doubt that Jermyn would have 
secured the coveted prize had not one of his lady- 
love's many escapades given him an excuse to 
change his mind. 

Of all the merry maids at the Royal Court 



28 A MADCAP MAID OF HONOUR 

there was no greater madcap than pretty Frances 
Jennings, of whose pranks some most entertaining 
stories are told. Of one of them Pepys tells the 
following story. ** Miss Jennings the other day 
dressed herself like an orange wench, and went 
up and down and cried ' Oranges ! ' till, falling 
down, or by some accident, her fine shoes were 
discovered." But this was a mild frolic compared 
with that other which gave Henry Jermyn pause 
in his matrimonial design, and of which the story, 
as told by Count Hamilton, runs thus. 

The dissolute Earl of Rochester, after his banish- 
ment from Court by Charles H., had returned to 
town and, under the guise of a German doctor, 
skilled in medicine and soothsaying, had taken up 
his abode near the Tower ; and, in a mood of mis- 
chievousness. Miss Jennings decided to pay a visit 
to the necromancer to have her fortune told, with 
Miss Price, a kindred spirit, for companion. 

** Having well considered the matter the best 
disguise they could think of was (as on a former 
occasion) to dress themselves like the girls who 
sell oranges in the theatres and public promenades. 
This was soon managed ; they attired themselves 
alike, each taking a basket of oranges, and having 
embarked in a hackney coach, they committed 
themselves to fortune without any other escort than 
their own caprice and indiscretion. As the coach 
rattled past the Duke's Theatre, where the Queen 
and the Duchess of York were seated in state, the 
impish idea occurred to the madcaps of entering 
the theatre and hawking their oranges under the 
very noses of the royal ladies, to whom they were 
so well known." 



A MADCAP MAID OF HONOUR 29 

No sooner said than done ; but alas ! their 
courage was not equal to their enterprise. No 
sooner had they set foot in the lobby, with their 
baskets in their arms, than Killigrew, a famous 
dandy of the time, accosted them and, with the 
boldness of his class, chucked Miss Jennings under 
the chin and put his arm round her waist, alarming 
her to such an extent that, wrenching herself free, 
she bolted back to the coach, followed by her com- 
panion. A still more daring adventure awaited 
them as their coach drew near to their destination, 
the German doctor's house ; for, as the girls dis- 
mounted, leaving their orange baskets behind them, 
they found themselves face to face with a very 
familiar figure, that of Brounker, the biggest roui 
in town. At sight of him their hearts sank into 
their boots, for they saw at a glance that he recog- 
nised them. ** The old fox, however, possessed 
wonderful self-command, and having teased them 
to remove suspicion, quitted them, telling Price 
that she was a great fool to refuse his offers to 
accompany him, and that she would not, perhaps, 
get so much in a year as she might with him in a 
day ; that the times were greatly changed since the 
Queen's and the Duchess's maids of honour nowa- 
days came to the same market as the poor women 
of the town ! " 

This second misadventure took away the little 
heart that was still left in them, and returning to 
their coach, where they found their coachman 
trying to protect their oranges from a gang of 
roughs, they drove back to the palace as fast as 
the horses could go — cured, for the time at least, 
of their love of adventure. Within a few days the 



30 A MADCAP MAID OF HONOUR 

story of their escapade was all over the town, 
thanks to the treacherous Brounker, and Jermyn 
decided that such a madcap as Frances Jennings 
was too great a responsibility for him. He pre- 
ferred to risk his life in battle ; and he rode away 
to join the expedition to New Guinea, with the 
taunts of his deserted lady-love in his ears. 

But if Henry Jermyn was foolish enough to run 
away from the fun-loving maid of honour there was 
no lack of suitors to take his place ; and to one 
of them, George Hamilton, the good-looking and 
fascinating grandson of the first Earl of Abercorn, 
the wilful girl at last consented to give her hand, 
though it is said her heart went not with it. Why 
she thus chose a penniless younger son for her 
husband, or why she married Hamilton at all, since 
he had made no impression on her heart, is a 
mystery which probably she herself could not solve. 
Thus at seventeen we find her as a bride accom- 
panying her husband, whom Charles had knighted 
probably for her sake more than for his, to France, 
where he offered his sword to Louis XIV. A few 
years of fighting, and Count Hamilton, as he had 
by that time become, fell on a Flanders battlefield, 
leaving his widow, a more lovely woman than ever, 
to face the world with her three young children on 
a paltry pension awarded to her by the French 
Government. 

It was not likely, however, that a woman so 
dowered with beauty and so fired by an unsatisfied 
ambition would long languish in obscurity. There 
were worlds still left to conquer. As a child she 
had vowed she would " die a Duchess," and it was 
not by any means too late to reach that exalted 



A MADCAP MAID OF HONOUR 31 

goal. By the time she had laid aside her widow's 
weeds we find her in the suite of the lady of the 
English Ambassador to France — ** a sprightly 
young lady," as Evelyn describes her, ** much in 
the good graces of the family." And it was while 
travelling thus that she met once again Talbot 
whom, fifteen years earlier, she had dismissed so 
cavalierly. 

Though the handsome Irishman had married 
and buried a wife in the meantime he still had a 
very tender place in his heart for the ''adorable 
Jennings," and once more put his fate to the test 
with happier results ; for this time Frances not only 
said "yes" to his question but stuck to it. Royalty 
smiled on the match ; the Duke of York installed 
Talbot as a groom of the bedchamber ; his Duchess 
took the bride under her wing ; and all went merrily 
as wedding bells. 

From the world's point of view the match no doubt 
seemed to promise little in the way of advancement, 
and Colonel Talbot's wife must have thought her 
chances of a ducal coronet more remote than ever ; 
but, though she little knew it, it was coming to her. 
She was to "die a Duchess" after all. The first 
important step in this direction was when James II., 
on his accession, created Talbot Earl of Tyrconnel 
and put him in command of the troops in Ireland, 
whither his Countess accompanied him ; and the 
goal was reached a few years later, when her 
husband the Earl blossomed into the Duke of 
Tyrconnel and Viceroy of Ireland. 

Frances Jennings had now reached the dazzling 
pinnacle of her ambition — and more, for she was 
not only a duchess, but a vice-queen. And 



32 A MADCAP MAID OF HONOUR 

seldom, if ever, has Ireland had a queen more 
beautiful, more regal or more splendid. Through 
all the troublous times of faction and jealousy that 
followed she steered the barque of her fortunes 
with consummate cleverness, and maintained the 
supremacy of her husband and herself in the face of 
difficulties which would speedily have overwhelmed 
a weaker nature. Even on that evil day of the 
Battle of the Boyne, when she saw the sun of her 
splendour setting for ever, she never for a moment 
lost her dignified composure. 

"When," as Mr Trowbridge says, **the fleeing 
King arrived at Dublin Castle, faint and covered 
with mud so as to be hardly recognised, the 
Duchess of Tyrconnel assembled her household in 
state, and dressing herself magnificently, received 
him with all the splendour of Court etiquette. 
Never has the Castle witnessed a function more 
dramatic than this of Dick Talbot's Vicereine on 
the night of the Battle of the Boyne. Having on 
one knee congratulated James on his safety she 
invited him to partake of refreshment." His answer 
is celebrated. Shaking his head sadly, he replied 
that his breakfast that morning had spoiled his 
appetite, and he ironically complimented her on the 
swiftness of her husband's countrymen's heels. 
" At least your Majesty has the advantage of 
them," she could not help retorting, stung by the 
ruin of her hopes and ambitions. 

The days of her queendom were over ; and 
when James returned to France she followed him 
into his exile, in order to protect at the treacherous 
Court of St Germain the brave husband whose side 
she so reluctantly left for his sake. One satisfac- 



A MADCAP MAID OF HONOUR 33 

tlon she had to console her a little for the loss of 
her high position — she had secured husbands for her 
daughters in three Irish viscounts, — Rosse, Dillon, 
and Kingsland — and had thus provided for their 
future whatever might befall her. 

But worse than the loss of place and power was 
to follow soon. Her husband, who in the following 
year had returned to Ireland for another tussle with 
William of Orange, died with tragic suddenness. 
*'On the eleventh of August," says Macaulay, ''he 
[Tyrconnel] dined with d'Usson. The party was 
gay. The Lord Lieutenant seemed to have thrown 
off the load which had bowed down his body and 
mind. He drank ; he jested ; he was again the 
Dick Talbot who had dined and revelled with 
Grammont. Soon after he had risen from table 
an apoplectic stroke deprived him of speech and 
sensation. On the fourteenth he had breathed his 
last. The wasted remains of that form which had 
once been the model for statuaries were laid under 
the pavement of the cathedral [of Limerick] but no 
inscription, no tradition, preserves the memory of 
the spot." 

The Duchess had now fallen on very evil days. 
She had lost her proud position and her gallant and 
devoted husband ; she was an exile among strangers, 
the pitiful hanger-on of a discredited Court ; her 
children, with whom she was not on good terms, 
were far away ; and she was so poor that, it is said, 
she often lacked the simplest food. Even when 
James allowed her a small pension her lot was little 
improved. Her sun had indeed set — and it was 
never to rise again. 

Through all her dark hours of eclipse and mis- 



34 A MADCAP MAID OF HONOUR 

fortune, however, she carried the same brave heart 
with which she faced the crushing cHmax to her 
rule as Vice-Queen of Ireland. How she Hved 
during these years is not certainly known. It is 
said that for a time she acted as secret agent to 
her brother-in-law, the Duke of Marlborough, and 
that, when this source of income failed, she actually, 
for a time, kept a stall in the Royal Exchange. 

Horace Walpole, who is our authority for this, 
says, ** Above stairs sat, in the character of a 
milliner, the reduced Duchess of Tyrconnel, wife 
of Richard Talbot, Lord Deputy of Ireland under 
James II. This female, suspected to be his Duchess 
after her death, supported herself for a few days, 
till she was known and otherwise provided for, 
by the little trade of the place. She had delicacy 
enough to wish not to be detected ; she sat in a 
white mask and a white dress, and was known by 
the name of the * White Milliner.' Probably none 
of the fine ladies who purchased trifles at her stall 
had any suspicion that the mysterious saleswoman 
had been in other days the most courted beauty 
in England — vainly wooed by two Kings — and 
Deputy Queen of Ireland." 

Of her later life little remains to be told. From 
the degradation of the milliner's stall she seems to 
have been rescued by her brother-in-law, the Duke 
of Marlborough, whose influence secured the re- 
storation of a small portion of her husband's Irish 
property ; and, thus secure from want, she spent the 
last thirty years of her long life in Dublin, the scene 
of her greatest triumphs. Her beauty had long 
taken wings. ** Very small and frail," Walpole 
describes her at this time, ** but still sharp of tongue 



A MADCAP MAID OF HONOUR 35 

and keen of eye ; without the least trace of her 
once brilliant beauty." And her death, which 
Walpole thus records, was the tragic climax to these 
long years of loneliness and sadness : "Her death 
was occasioned by falling out of her bed on the 
floor in a winter's night, and, being too feeble to 
rise or call out, she was found in the morning so 
perished with cold that she died in a few hours." 
Thus, in the darkness, untended and alone, died 
Frances Jennings, who, during her eighty- two years, 
had tasted some of the most intoxicating delights 
and drained some of the bitterest dregs that the cup 
of life has ever presented to human lips. 



A SEMI-ROYAL ADVENTURESS 

One day in the year 1766 the splendid coach of 
the Marquis de BoulainvilHers, drawn by its four 
straining horses, was slowly climbing a hill between 
Paris and the suburban village of Passy when an 
odd little figure, barefooted and in rags and carry- 
ing on its back a younger child, emerged from the 
roadside and pitifully pleaded for alms. 

" Please, kind lady and gentleman," she panted, 
as she tried to keep pace with the coach, "spare a 
coin for two little orphans descended from Henri 
II., King of France." The Marquis frowned on the 
little figure with the small, plaintive voice, and 
gruffly bade her begone with her preposterous 
nonsense ; but the child was quick to see the look 
of kindness and sympathy in the eyes of the 
beautiful lady by his side and limped painfully on, 
repeating her strange appeal. "Where do you 
live, little one ? " asked the Marquise ; and when 
the child had told her she continued, " Well, run 
away now, and I will see what I can do for you." 

On the following day, after careful inquiries as 
to what was known of these strange children who 
claimed such a lofty descent, the Marquise sent for 
them to her chateau, and, touched by their pitiful 
condition, decided to adopt them, and to provide 
for their future and for that of their little brother 
Jacques. 

Were they impostors or was there any truth in 

36 



A SEMI-ROYAL ADVENTURESS 37 

the grotesque claim that these children of the 
gutter, begging alms by the roadside, had the royal 
blood of Valois in their veins, was a question to 
which the tender-hearted Marquise was unable to 
find an answer. It was sufficient for her that they 
were destitute and friendless, and it was not until 
years later that she learned the singular story of 
their past, which was surely one of the most 
romantic in the history of human vicissitudes. 

A couple of centuries earlier Henri II. of Valois, 
King of France, and husband of Catherine de 
Medicis, became father by one of his many mistresses 
of a son whom he created Baron de Valois and 
enriched with large estates in the district of Bar- 
sur-Aube ; and whose descendants flourished for 
a time among the proudest nobles of France. But 
extravagance and improvidence was in the blood 
of the Valois barons ; their possessions were 
squandered in riotous living ; and, a few years 
before this story opens, the head of this semi-royal 
house had sunk to the rank of a peasant. The 
last of his thousands of acres had orone from his 
hands ; the once proud chateau was a roofless ruin ; 
and his social debacle was complete when he took 
to wife the slatternly daughter of a local game- 
keeper. A slave to drink and addicted to the 
lowest of society and pursuits, this descendant of 
kings was barely able to keep a mean hovel over 
the heads of his wife and children, by the fruits of 
his poaching and stealing. 

But from the sordid wreckage of his fortune the 
drunken poacher had rescued his patents of nobility 
and the papers which vouched for his illustrious 
descent, and these he clung to tenaciously. He 



38 A SEMI-ROYAL ADVENTURESS 

kept them for safety under his filthy mattress, and 
in his drunken moods would produce them and 
weep maudlin tears over these evidences of a past 
grandeur. The proud edifice of his family fortunes 
lay in hopeless ruin, but none could take from him 
his royal origin and the records of glories that were 
gone. 

To his low-born wife these faded parchments 
meant nothing except — and the thought flashed 
into her mind as an inspiration — as a means of 
appealing to the rich and powerful for a little help 
in their extremity. Why not take them to Paris 
and make capital of them ? There at least the 
descendant of Henri de Valois would not be allowed 
to starve or be driven to stealing to keep hunger 
from his door. And thus it was that one day the 
noble poacher, his wife and two of their three young 
children turned their backs on the scene of the 
family glory and shame and set out to tramp to 
distant Paris. The third child, Marianne, who was 
still too young to walk, they left on the doorstep 
of a local grocer to make her mute appeal to his 
charity. 

Arrived at the capital their dreams of a brighter 
future were soon dissipated. No one would believe 
their story ; they were spurned from every door ; 
and as a last resource were driven to beg for their 
bread in the streets, the two children — the elder of 
whom was barely five — being taught to solicit alms 
as the descendants of Henry of Valois, King of 
France, and being soundly thrashed when they 
returned empty-handed. 

They had not been long in Paris when their 
father, the Baron, worn out with years of dissipation 



A SEMI-ROYAL ADVENTURESS 39 

and enfeebled by hardship and hunger, died in 
the Hotel de Dieu — a loss for which the Baroness 
soon consoled herself by marrying a tramp, one 
Raymond, who, in his more prosperous days, had 
been a soldier. And when, a little later, her new 
husband found Paris too hot to hold him, she accom- 
panied him in his exile, leaving her children to 
the mercy of the world, with results which we have 
seen in the opening of this story. 

It was a fortunate day for the little ones when 
they came under the kindly eyes of the Marquise 
de Boulainvilliers ; their days of begging and 
starvation were over, and as the protdgdes of their 
wealthy and high-placed benefactress they found 
themselves in a new world of opulence and luxury. 
But the Marquise did not intend her charges to 
lead idle lives. They were sent to a neighbouring 
school, and when Jeanne was fourteen she was 
apprenticed to a dressmaker, very much against 
the young lady's inclination. She rebelled against 
the hardships ofher new life, and especially against 
the ignominy of having to do servants' work, such 
as cooking, washing and ironing — all useful train- 
ing, no doubt, but a gross indignity to one who had 
in her veins the blood of kings. Her tears and 
appeals at last persuaded the Marquise to release 
her from her servitude and to take her back to the 
chateau as companion, a role much more to her 
taste than that of scrubbing floors. 

To her benefactress Jeanne was never weary of 
repeating the story of her high descent or of beg- 
ging her to have it investigated, with the result 
that the Marquise placed the matter in the hands 
of a famous genealogist, who was able to satisfy 



40 A SEMI-ROYAL ADVENTURESS 

her that the claim was genuine — that the ex-beggar 
child was in fact a lineal descendant of Henri II. 
de Valois, King of France. A few weeks later the 
Marquise took her protdgdes to Paris ; and their 
story was told to Louis XV. himself, who gave 
his permission to Jeanne to style herself " Made- 
moiselle de Valois," confirmed Jacques in his title 
of Baron de Valois and gave him a naval com- 
mission, and sanctioned an allowance to each 
member of the family of 800 livres a year. 

The pride the sisters must have felt at this 
exalted recognition of their royal descent was 
qualified by the King's expressed desire that they 
should retire from the world to a convent, possibly 
in the hope that in this way the House of Valois 
would end with them ; and to the Abbey of Yeres 
Jeanne and Marianne accordingly were sent. And 
not a day too soon, for the Marquis had begun 
to cast amorous eyes on the elder of his wife's 
protdgdes, who seems to have been far from re- 
senting his overtures. Even in the shelter of the 
convent he prosecuted his suit, to such an extent 
that it became necessary for its credit to send 
the sisters packing. 

At the Abbey of Longchamps the experience 
was repeated. The Marquis was much too fre- 
quent a visitor to please the Abbess ; and Jeanne 
and Marianne would certainly have been expelled 
had not the Marquis got into serious trouble for 
cheating the revenue by installing a secret still 
in his Paris house, and to evade the consequences 
been compelled to make himself scarce for a time. 
But the young ladies of the House of Valois were 
much too flighty and restless to remain long in 



A SEMI-ROYAL ADVENTURESS 41 

cloistered seclusion. Their rank had been recog- 
nised, but the broad ancestral acres were still 
withheld from them, and they decided to make 
a pilgrimage to Bar - sur - Aube to " claim their 
rights." Here, in the country of their ancestors, 
they were received with the respect due to fallen 
princesses, and received a most hospitable welcome 
to the house of a wealthy lady, Madame de Sure- 
mont, who counted herself highly honoured in 
playing the hostess to such romantic and distin- 
guished guests. They were fUed and made much 
of by the local society, and every officer in the 
neighbouring barracks at Luneville promptly lost 
his heart to one or the other of them. Of Made- 
moiselle de Valois, one who knew her at this time 
gives the following description : — *' If not exactly 
handsome, she had a graceful figure, blue eyes 
full of expression, and well-arched black eyebrows. 
Although her face was a trifle too long and her 
mouth too wide, she had beautiful teeth and a 
very fascinating smile. She had pretty hands 
and tiny feet, and her complexion was brilliantly 
fair. She was clever and quick-witted, but she 
was entirely without the moral sense " — a defect 
which was perhaps her chief characteristic through 
life, and which was responsible for her later re- 
markable career. 

Among her many gallant wooers was the youth- 
ful Baron de Lamotte, a man as deficient in 
intellect as in morals, but who made an imposing 
appearance in his uniform of scarlet and silver ; 
and to this shady young nobleman Mademoiselle 
de Valois surrendered her hand — only, let it be 
said, after she had more than exhausted the 



42 A SEMI-ROYAL ADVENTURESS 

hospitality of Madame Suremont, whose husband 
was among her most ardent and intimate admirers. 
A month after the wedding-bells rang their merry 
peals on her nuptial day, Baroness de Lamotte 
became the mother of two fine boys, whose pater- 
nity was credited impartially to M. de Suremont, 
the Bishop of Langres, and her husband. 

As the wife of the Baron, Jeanne found herself 
in even worse condition than as a spinster. In 
addition to his army pay her husband had but a 
paltry allowance of a pound a month, and the 
young couple soon found themselves hopelessly 
involved in debt, for the Baroness was as extra- 
vagant as she was poor. A change of scene soon 
became advisable, and what more natural than that 
she should once more seek out her old benefactress, 
the Marquise, and appeal again to her generosity? 
She discovered Madame de Boulainvilliers in the 
palace of Saverne, where she was the guest of 
Prince Louis de Rohan, Cardinal Archbishop ; 
and she exercised her arts so well that, while the 
Marquise paid her debts, the Cardinal, who ever 
had a weakness for a pretty and fascinating woman, 
took her under his august protection. 

Prince Louis de Rohan, a cadet of one of the 
noblest houses of France, whose family influence 
had secured for him a Cardinal's hat and the Court 
appointment of Grand Almoner of Louis XVL, 
was an instrument, as she thought, especially de- 
signed by Providence to aid her in her ambitious 
projects. She quickly discovered that he was 
shallow and inordinately vain ; and none knew 
better than she how to turn these weaknesses to 
her own advantage. But while she adroitly paved 



A SEMI-ROYAL ADVENTURESS 43 

the way for this brilliant design she lost no time in 
trying to curry favour with the great ladies of the 
Court. To them she professed to be an intimate 
friend of Queen Marie Antoinette and showed them 
letters — ostensibly in her Majesty's handwriting, 
but actually forged by a friend of her husband — 
addressing her as *'my sweetheart," **my dearest 
Comtesse " (a title she had assumed for her 
purpose). But to all her advances even the King's 
mistresses turned a cold and contemptuous shoulder. 
It was quite clear that she must try some other 
way to gain Louis' ear and favour — and what better 
way could there be than through the vain and 
gullible Cardinal, who was already a slave to her 
charms ? 

The Baroness was quick to discover the most 
vulnerable point — one of many — in the Cardinal's 
armour. Some years earlier, while in Vienna, he 
had incurred the serious displeasure of Marie 
Theresa, the Empress, by the flagrant immorality 
of his life. With abundant wealth, exalted rank 
and a handsome person he was in a position to 
indulge to the fullest extent his dissolute tastes ; 
and he never allowed his sacred office, as a Prince 
of the Church, to interfere with his pleasures. 
Such conduct naturally shocked the Empress, who 
not only took a violent dislike to de Rohan, but 
took good care to infect her daughter Marie 
Antoinette with her detestation. The result was 
that the Cardinal was forbidden to appear at the 
French Court. 

For years he had chafed in vain against this 
humiliation ; to all his approaches Louis and his 
beautiful consort turned a deaf ear. If he could 



44 A SEMI-ROYAL ADVENTURESS 

only secure an audience with Marie Antoinette he 
was vain enough to think that his supple tongue, 
courtly manners and handsome face would quickly 
conquer her dislike and install him in her favour. 
But this was precisely what he could not do. 
Marie Antoinette point-blank refused even to see 
him. 

This then was Madame de Lamotte's opportunity. 
Undismayed by her rebuffs at Court, she deter- 
mined to practise the same arts on the Cardinal. 
She assured him that she was a very dear friend 
of the Queen ; and, to remove any doubts he might 
have, showed him her Majesty's letters couched in 
the language of affection and intimacy. Her 
Majesty, she declared, was so devoted to her that 
she could refuse nothing she asked ; and it would 
be the easiest matter in the world to induce her to 
take him into favour again. At any rate she would 
do her best and would never rest until her dear 
Cardinal was a welcome figure at the Court, which 
no one was so well equipped to adorn. 

Rohan was delighted. His cup of happiness 
would be full when the Queen deigned to smile on 
him once more ; and — who knows ? — he, who was 
a past master in the arts of gallantry, might even 
hope to touch the heart of his Sovereign lady. 

It was not long before Madame was able to 
assure the Prince that the Queen's prejudices were 
all melting under the ardour of her championship ; 
and to place in his hands a letter full of friendly 
assurances, which she said had been entrusted to 
her to give to him. There could be no possible 
mistake about it ; the billet was in her Majesty's 
own handwriting and signed ''Your friend, Marie 



A SEMI-ROYAL ADVENTURESS 45 

Antoinette " ; and as the foolish man read the words 
he pressed the sheet to his lips and showered kisses 
on it. Other letters followed, each more cordial 
than its predecessor. Rohan was transported to 
the seventh heaven. The great lady who had so 
coldly avoided him was now his friend — nay, more, 
the sentiments she expressed were warmer than 
mere friendship dictated. One thing only was 
necessary now to make his bliss complete — an 
interview with the Sovereign lady, the pressure of 
her hand ; and these his ally confidently promised 
him at an early date. 

To promise the interview was more easy than to 
arrange it ; but even this difficulty was overcome 
by Madame's usual good luck. One day her 
husband chanced to see a girl who bore an extra- 
ordinary likeness, in face and figure, to the Queen, 
and, introducing himself to her, he persuaded her to 
accompany him to his wife, who naturally hailed the 
new and innocent recruit with delight. After inform- 
ing the girl (who proved to be Mademoiselle Leguay, 
a poor chorus-singer) that she was an intimate 
friend of Marie Antoinette, Madame proceeded to 
inform her that the Queen had commissioned her 
to find a young lady who would do her a service, 
for which her Majesty was prepared to pay a sum 
of 15,000 francs. Overwhelmed by the honour and 
the promised reward, Mademoiselle Leguay gladly 
consented, and received the necessary instructions 
for the romantic part she was to play. 

A few days later Madame de Lamotte was able 
to assure the Cardinal that the Queen had con- 
descended to give him an interview — a secret 
meeting after dark — in the garden of the Chateau 



46 A SEMI-ROYAL ADVENTURESS 

of Versailles. At last the Cardinal's cup of bliss 
was full ; he counted the hours, the minutes, that 
separated him from the crown of his triumph ; and 
as, at the time appointed, he paced up and down 
outside the garden wall at the trysting place, his 
excitement knew no bounds. After what seemed 
hours of waiting, he saw the Comtesse approaching. 
" Quick," was her hurried, whispered greeting ; ** the 
Queen is here " ; and glancing round he saw a white 
figure coming towards him in the dark shadow of 
the wall. A moment later he had fallen on one 
knee, a tall and gracious figure was stooping over 
him, and a rose was placed in his hand with the 
softly spoken words, "You know what this means." 
Before he could recover his scattered senses, the 
figure had vanished as swiftly and as mysteriously 
as it had come ; and he was alone, pressing feverish 
kisses on the grass on which the dainty feet had 
trod. 

" That bewitching rose is in my heart," he wrote 
to Marie Antoinette, the same evening. '* I shall 
keep it all my life ; and it will continually recall to 
me the first hour of my happiness." These were 
the enraptured words which the Comtesse, to whom 
the letter had been entrusted for delivery, was 
laughing over an hour later, as she saw the flames 
devour her dupe's letter. And at the same moment 
Mademoiselle Leguay, the pretty chorus-singer, 
who had been bribed to impersonate the Queen at 
this romantic tryst, was silently chuckling over the 
incident with some boon companions at a neighbour- 
ing restaurant. 

The Cardinal had now no doubt that the Queen 
had at last succumbed to his charms. He had not 



A SEMI-ROYAL ADVENTURESS 47 

only secured her friendship : he had conquered her 
heart ! And, elated with his triumph, he gladly 
handed over to the Comtesse sums of 50,000 and 
100,000 francs, of which, she assured him, the Queen 
stood in need. 

Elated with the success of this coup, Madame 
and her weak-kneed husband, who appears to have 
spent most of his time in low dissipation, and 
to have been content to leave the breadwinning to 
his brilliant wife, travelled to Bar-sur-Aube to flaunt 
their ill-gotten riches in the face of the people who 
had known her as a barefooted gamin, daughter 
of the most disreputable, if the best-born, man in 
the district. Here they purchased a country house, 
ostensibly until their chateau could be restored to 
its old-time splendour ; they entertained regally 
and squandered their money with a prodigal hand, 
creating considerable sensation for a time. But 
even 150,000 francs could not long survive such 
extravagance, and it was with an empty purse that, 
a few months later, the precious couple made their 
way back to Paris in search of new adventures. 

As luck would have it a victim was already 
awaiting them. For many years M. Bohmer, a 
Court jeweller, had tried in vain to find a purchaser 
for a diamond necklace, of exquisite beauty and 
great value, in which he had sunk most of his 
capital. He asked 1,600,000 francs for it; but, 
although he had hawked it to all the courts of 
Europe, nowhere could he find a buyer. Again and 
again M. Bohmer took his necklace to the Court, 
hoping to dazzle Marie Antoinette's eyes with the 
seductive bauble ; but, fascinated as she was by its 
superlative loveliness, she declined to be tempted 



48 A SEMI-ROYAL ADVENTURESS 

by it. "The King, I know, would give it to me," 
she said, in answer to the jeweller's importunate 
pleading, ''but I refuse it. Please do not mention 
it to me again." 

M. Bohmer was in despair. He was unwilling 
to break up the necklace and sell it piecemeal ; and 
no one would or could purchase it in its entire 
beauty. Meanwhile he was losing something like 
70,000 francs a year in interest on the capital it 
represented. There was still, however, just one 
ray of hope left to him. He had heard of the 
Comtesse de Lamotte and her reputed intimacy 
with Marie Antoinette. If anyone could persuade 
the Queen to relent and purchase the necklace 
surely it was this very privileged friend. To the 
Comtesse accordingly he took his glittering treasure, 
as a last resource, and besought her to use her 
great influence to induce her Majesty to change 
her mind. 

The Comtesse, however, proved to be even less 
accessible than her royal friend. She declined 
resolutely to have anything to do with M. Bohmer 
or his bauble, and, when he ventured to offer her 
a bribe of 1000 francs for her services, she turned 
on the unhappy man as if she would rend him in 
her righteous anger at such an affront. Three 
times the jeweller called ; and the third time he 
was relieved to see signs of yielding. Pursuing his 
advantage, he ultimately won her consent, to his 
great delight, in this qualified form : " If I can be 
of any use to you I will do what I can, without 
any reward. But, whether I fail or succeed, on 
no account must my name be mentioned in the 
matter." 



A SEMI-ROYAL ADVENTURESS 49 

The Comtesse lost no time in sending a letter 
to Rohan, cleverly forged by her friend in Marie 
Antoinette's handwriting, begging him to return 
at once to Paris as she had need of his services in 
a delicate negotiation. *' If you wish to be restored 
to my favour," the letter concluded, "you will not 
fail me ! " There was little possibility of the 
Cardinal failing to obey such a mandate from the 
Sovereign lady who had already been so gracious 
to him. He returned post-haste, and learned from 
the lips of the Comtesse, the Queen's friend and 
intermediary, what her royal mistress wished him 
to do — which, of course, was to purchase the neck- 
lace on her behalf. 

" The Queen," said the Comtesse impressively, 
"wishes the negotiation to be quite secret, for a 
time at least. She is so afraid the King may be 
offended. And as she has not at present the 
money to purchase the necklace outright, she 
wishes the Cardinal to guarantee the payment." 

Rohan was delighted at this further and con- 
clusive proof of the confidence her Majesty re- 
posed in him. The necklace was purchased, on 
his guarantee, for 1,600,000 francs, to be paid in 
four half-yearly instalments ; a receipt was given 
in the Queen's handwriting ; and the necklace was 
handed to the Comtesse, who was to give it into 
Marie Antoinette's own hands. Needless, how- 
ever, to state Madame had very different intentions. 
She promptly took the diamonds from their setting ; 
and, a few days later, her husband had sold most 
of them to a Bond Street jeweller for a sum suffi- 
cient to keep him and his lady in luxury for the 
rest of their days. 



50 A SEMI-ROYAL ADVENTURESS 

Assured that at last he had fully earned the 
Queen's favour, the Cardinal presented himself 
at Court, only to find to his dismay that Marie 
Antoinette treated him as coldly and contemptu- 
ously as before the change in her secret attitude. 
But did he not know that her heart was his, and 
that this was but a superficial coldness, to blind the 
world to her true feelings ? Another discomfiting 
fact was that, even on State occasions, she never 
wore the necklace he had procured for her — a fact 
which was also beginning to create much uneasi- 
ness in M. Bohmer's mind. So much so, that the 
jeweller, when sending a bill to her Majesty for 
some trifle she had bought, took the opportunity to 
remind her of the purchase of the necklace, con- 
cluding his letter thus : " We feel genuine satis- 
faction in the knowledge that the handsomest 
collection of diamonds in existence is in the pos- 
session of the most lovely of Queens." " The man 
must be mad," was the Queen's comment, as she 
read words which conveyed no meaning to her. 

The day of reckoning and revelation was, how- 
ever, at hand. When the first instalment of 400,000 
francs fell due, the money was not forthcoming. A 
trivial sum was handed by Madame de Lamotte to the 
Cardinal to pay to the jeweller, with a request from 
the Queen to postpone payment of the large balance. 
Further, M. Bohmer's partner, M. Bassange, had 
discovered that the receipt for the necklace bore 
little similarity to her Majesty's handwriting. Sus- 
picion gave place to consternation. M. Bassange 
hurried to the Comtesse to ask for an explanation, 
and received the cool assurance that the whole 
transaction was a fraud \ that the Queen's signature 



A SEMI-ROYAL ADVENTURESS 51 

was forged, and that he must look to the Cardinal 
for payment ! 

When the disclosure of the fraud came to Marie 
Antoinette's ears she was furious beyond words, 
especially at the part played in it by the man whom 
she so detested and who had actually posed as her 
trusted agent. She insisted that the Cardinal and 
all implicated in the swindle should be arrested, 
and that her own innocence should be publicly 
established in a court of law. An hour later the 
Prince de Rohan, in the splendour of his episcopal 
robes, was conducted to the presence of the King 
and Queen to explain his singular conduct. 

It is difficult to resist a feeling of pity for the 
Cardinal, crass as his folly had been, as he stood in 
the crowded palace hall, with bowed head, before 
his offended Sovereigns. The King's frown he 
could bear ; but the cold, disdainful regard of the 
Queen, his infatuation for whom had brought him 
to this pitiful plight, cut him to the heart. "Who 
authorised you," demanded Louis sternly, **to buy 
this necklace for the Queen of France ? " ** A lady 
named Lamotte who brought me a letter from the 
Queen," was the crushed Cardinal's answer. ** I 
thought that in executing her Majesty's commission 
I was doing her a service." 

*'You thought," interrupted the Queen, in a 
voice vibrating with anger, ''you thought you were 
rendering me a service — me, who, since you first 
came to Court, have never addressed a word to or 
directed a glance at you ! " When, at the King's 
demand, he produced the receipt for the necklace, 
Louis exclaimed, ''Why, this no more resembles 
her Majesty's handwriting than my own ; and 



52 A SEMI-ROYAL ADVENTURESS 

further, how could you, a Prince Cardinal, believe 
that the Queen would sign herself * Marie Antoin- 
ette of France ' ? Go, sir, at once and write a 
humble apology to her Majesty and consider 
yourself under arrest." 

The apology was presented by the heartbroken 
man, who was then conducted through the gay 
crowd of courtiers on his way to the Bastille. The 
Comtesse de Lamotte and her husband, and even 
the chorus-singer who had personated Marie Antoin- 
ette at the tryst, were also arrested, and followed 
the Cardinal to prison. 

But the Cardinal's hour of triumph was at hand. 
Nobles and populace alike, who already hated the 
Queen at heart, resented the indignity thus cast 
on a prince of the Church. He became a popular 
idol, a scapegoat for the Queen's delinquencies. 
When he was brought to trial he was received with 
the honours of a sovereign, and when he was 
acquitted the whole of France went delirious with 
rejoicing. 

Madame de Lamotte, whose husband, more 
prudent than his spouse, seized the opportunity to 
slip across the Channel and try the air of England, 
fared much worse than her exalted dupe. From 
the beginning of her sensational trial her conviction 
was never in doubt for a moment, but even her 
worst enemy was scarcely prepared for the severe 
sentence which fell to her lot. She was condemned 
to be flogged naked and carrying a halter round 
her neck ; to be branded on the shoulder as a felon ; 
and to be confined for life in the Salpetriere prison. 

Over this terrible punishment it is well to draw 
the curtain. Let it suffice to say that, shrieking 



A SEMI-ROYAL ADVENTURESS 53 

and struggling, she was gagged, and bound hand 
and foot; that the letter ''V" was branded on her 
shoulder with a red-hot iron, and that, after a severe 
flogging in the presence of a crowd of onlookers, 
she was flung half dead into a cab and driven off to 
the Salpetriere, where she was compelled to herd 
with the most degraded and criminal of her sex. 
No wonder she records that, when she saw the 
horrible creatures with whom the rest of her days 
were to be spent, she recoiled with horror, and with 
tears streaming down her cheeks, exclaimed, " Poor 
Valois ! poor Valois ! " 

The rest of the Comtesse's romantic and tragic 
life story is soon told. With the help of outside 
friends and bribed gaolers she escaped, in disguise, 
from her prison, and made her way to England, 
where she rejoined her husband. Here, over- 
whelmed by debts and pursued by writs, she tried to 
earn a livelihood by publishing scandalous memoirs, 
in which Marie Antoinette was held up to the 
abuse and ridicule of the world. Again and again 
her silence was purchased ; and again and again 
she broke faith and issued fresh editions of her 
infamous books, the profits of which were appro- 
priated by her rascally husband. 

The agents of the Due d'Orleans, incensed by 
her treachery in negotiating with Louis XVL for 
the purchase of her memoirs, which she had already 
sold to them, planned a cruel revenge. Armed 
with a bogus writ they went to her house with the 
object of kidnapping her and carrying her off to 
France, where she would be at their mercy. But 
Madame was not so easily to be caught. Leaving 
the room under a pretext she turned the key in the 



54 A SEMI-ROYAL ADVENTURESS 

door, locking her would-be captors in, and sought 
refuge in the attic of an adjacent house. It was 
not long, however, before her enemies, enraged at 
the trick played on them, had found her new 
hiding-place and were battering at the door. 

Escape was now impossible, except through the 
window ; and that way meant almost certain death. 
In her terror, however, she chose it, and leaping 
into space fell a crushed and mutilated heap in the 
street below. She survived her terrible injuries 
a few weeks, the end coming on the 26th August 
1 79 1 . Thus tragically J eanne de Valois, the descen- 
dant of kings, closed, in sordid Lambeth lodgings, 
one of the most remarkable careers in human 
history. 



THE TRAGEDY OF A QUEEN OF 

HEARTS 

One day, in the year 1646, a woman in peasant 
garb was plodding wearily along the road from 
London to Dover, alternately leading by the hand 
and carrying a bright-eyed, pale-faced child dressed 
as a boy. Passers-by gave many a sympathetic 
glance at the forlorn, travel-stained couple, and 
friendly carters offered them a lift by the way, 
offers which were politely but firmly declined ; 
while from all who made kindly overtures to him 
the little *'man" turned angrily away, exclaiming, 
" Go away ! I am not a peasant boy — I am the 
Princess Henrietta, of England" — an exclamation 
which provoked a warning ** Hush ! " from the 
woman and an incredulous laugh from the friendly 
stranger. 

Ludicrous as the child's petulant assertion seemed, 
it was perfectly true ; for the rags of the peasant 
covered the youngest child of Charles L, King of 
England. Little more than two years earlier she 
had been born at Exeter when the Civil War, 
which was to send her royal father to the scaffold, 
was raging its fiercest. When Exeter fell, the 
infant, whose mother had fled, was among the 
prisoners who came into the none too tender cus- 
tody of the Parliamentary forces, by whom she and 
her loyal nurse, Lady Dalkeith, were sent for 
safety to St James's. When a suitable opportunity 
55 



56 THE TRAGEDY OF A QUEEN OF HEARTS 

presented itself Lady Dalkeith had clothed herself 
and her precious charge in peasants' rags and fear- 
fully set forth on the long tramp to Dover, where 
she succeeded in crossing to France and joining 
Queen Henrietta Maria at the Court of her fathers. 

It was a tragic transition from the splendours 
of the English Court to the poor apartments which 
were assigned to the exiled Queen and her child at 
the Louvre. The annual allowance of 40,000 livres 
voted by the Parliament of Paris would have 
sufficed to keep Henrietta Maria in comfort, and 
even in some degree of luxury ; but the greater 
part of it went to meet the constant demands of her 
son and his needy followers, and the Queen found 
herself reduced to terrible straits, often lacking both 
fire and food. On one occasion, it is said, when 
Cardinal de Retz called to see the Queen in the 
depth of winter, he found her shivering in a fireless 
room by the bedside of her daughter. ** You see," 
was her Majesty's greeting of pitiful apology, ** I 
am keeping Henrietta company. I dare not let the 
poor child rise to-day as we have no fire." "The 
fact was," said the Cardinal, when telling the story, 
** that none of the tradespeople would trust her for 
anything. It will be difficult for posterity to realise 
that a princess of England, granddaughter of 
Henry, the Great, actually wanted a faggot to leave 
her bed in the Louvre, and in the eyes of the 
French Court." 

Such were the conditions under which the 
daughter, wife and mother of kings brought up the 
child who, in later years, was to play such a brilliant 
role on the stage of life, and to close a splendid 
career in tragedy more pitiful even than that which 



THE TRAGEDY OF A QUEEN OF HEARTS 57 

marked her days of infancy and childhood. But 
though Henrietta Maria spent her days chiefly in 
weeping and soHtude, too proud to claim her right- 
ful place among the exalted ladies at the French 
Court, she never ceased to encourage the loftiest 
ambition for her daughter's future. This ambition 
was no less than to see her the wife of the boy king 
Louis XIV., a scheme which had the cordial support 
of Louis' mother, Anne of Austria. 

Seldom has a devoted mother indulged in a hope 
so seemingly impossible of realisation. As a child, 
the Princess Henrietta was, says Mr Trowbridge, 
**not at all pretty, and all her physical defects were 
heightened by perpetual colds, and toothaches and 
sore eyes. The complete lack of taste with which 
her mother dressed her, and a certain blue-stocking 
air that her intellectual cramming gave her were, 
moreover, little calculated to excite admiration." 
It was indeed little likely that the King, one of the 
handsomest youths in all France, full of romance 
and the vigour and passion of young life, should 
give a second glance at the **ugly duckling" who 
was thus chosen as his future Queen. He much 
preferred the bright eyes and sprightly fascinations 
of Mazarin's lovely nieces, with one or other of 
whom he spent his days in flirting. When Anne 
arranged a splendid ball to bring the young people 
together, Louis point-blank refused even to dance 
with his unattractive cousin ; and it was only when 
his mother declared that if he would not dance with 
Henrietta he should not dance at all, that he yielded 
a churlish assent. When it was suggested later 
that he should marry the plain English Princess, 
his boyish anger blazed forth. ** Marry that ugly 



58 THE TRAGEDY OF A QUEEN OF HEARTS 

little girl," he exclaimed in disgust. "Never!" 
And, true to his word, since marry he must, he 
preferred to choose as the sharer of his throne 
the dowdy, ill-favoured Infanta, Maria Theresa, 
a preference which he was not long in regretting. 

But the days of obscurity were soon coming to 
an end for Henrietta and her mother. Her brother, 
Charles, was restored to the throne of England, 
amid acclamations and transports of joy ; and, as 
sister of the King of England, the despised Princess 
now became a very desirable partie, especially since, 
to her new and exalted position, was added an un- 
expected beauty which the transforming hand of 
time had cunningly wrought. The *' ugly duckling " 
of childhood had blossomed into a charming girl 
of seventeen. *' Beautiful in the vulgar, plastic 
sense she was not ; yet she created the impression 
of beauty. The lights in her expressive eyes, the 
swift changes of her mobile face, spoke to all of 
the sympathy and gaiety of her temperament. But 
her chief beauty was her smile of incomparable 
sweetness, which, while transfiguring her face, 
captivated all hearts. To these physical fascina- 
tions she added a sprightly wit, high spirits and an 
unrivalled skill in singing and dancing." It is little 
wonder that a young lady so richly dowered with 
fascinations should be sought in marriage by the 
great ones of the earth. The German Emperor, 
it is said, wooed her and wooed in vain ; and when 
at last she consented to become the wife of Louis' 
younger brother, Philippe, Duke of Orleans, there 
were those who said, with truth, that she might 
have aspired still higher. Her crowning triumph 
came when, shortly before her marriage, she paid 



THE TRAGEDY OF A QUEEN OF HEARTS 59 

a visit to the Court of her beloved brother, Charles 
II. The English people received with open arms 
the young Princess whose privations and touching 
devotion to their King were well known to them. 
Her amiability and, above all, her irresistible smile 
completed the conquest of their hearts ; her public 
appearances were ovations ; and all England rang 
with praises of her charms and winsomeness. 

Henrietta's marriage to Philippe of Orleans was 
disastrous from the first. If she had sought all 
France through she could not have found a husband 
so ill-calculated to make her happy. Of the Duke 
it is said, ** * The prettiest child in France' had 
grown up a man of striking beauty, with not a 
redeeming virtue. Brought up entirely among 
women he had acquired an effeminacy that, when 
clad in women's dress, a costume he frequently 
affected, it was difficult to believe he belonged to 
the other sex." To the age of thirteen he had 
been dressed entirely in girls' clothes, while his 
favourite companion was Madame de Choisy's son, 
who was similarly attired. 

As a young man this effeminacy became still 
more marked. Most of his time was spent in 
dressing himself in gorgeous raiment ; he spent 
hours in rouging and perfuming himself; and thus 
saturated with femininism he sought lovers of his 
own sex, on whom he lavished all the raptures of 
his debased passion. ** He was," says Saint-Simon, 
"a woman, with all her faults and none of her 
virtues ; childish, feeble, fond of gossip, curious, 
vain, suspicious, incapable of holding his tongue, 
taking pleasure in spreading slander and making 
mischief." It was inevitable that marriage to such 



60 THE TRAGEDY OF A QUEEN OF HEARTS 

a parody of a man should from the first inspire 
Henrietta with nothing but disgust. '* I never 
loved her after the first fortnight," the Duke once 
callously declared ; and it is more than doubtful 
whether he ever felt for her the least affection. 
Even on his wedding-day he left his bride to seek 
more congenial pleasure among his mignons. 

Can one marvel that the proud, high-spirited 
Princess should turn her back in contempt on her 
worthless husband and seek her own pleasure else- 
where ? Of lovers she had no lack. The hand- 
some Duke of Buckingham, the Comte de Guiche 
and many another were the slaves of her fascina- 
tions ; while her brother-in-law, the King, who had 
so contemptuously spurned her as a child, was now 
the most ardent of her lovers. Before her dreary 
honeymoon had waned Louis invited his ** beloved 
sister" to Fontainebleau, where she found herself 
*' the goddess of the palace, the fairy of the fountain, 
the nymph of the forests." Hunting-parties, balls, 
ballets, were arranged in her honour on a scale of 
ultra regal magnificence, and the neglected bride 
of ''Monsieur" reigned as Queen of Louis' Court 
and heart. 

While the real Queen was left in splendid isola- 
tion on the pinnacle of rigid Spanish etiquette she 
loved to enforce, Henrietta was treading the danger- 
ous paths of romance with Louis in the Fontainebleau 
forest. "The mysterious aisles of the branches," 
to quote Colonel Haggard, "the hidden grottoes in 
the rocks, the soft balmy air of summer, all breathed 
melody and romance around. For Henrietta to 
share this mystery, to join in the melody of the 
birds and bees, to roam where the romance of youth 



THE TRAGEDY OF A QUEEN OF HEARTS 61 

proclaimed a kingdom of the fairies, such was now 
the will of the autocratic young Monarch. When, 
at nightfall, Diana's rays shot slantwise through the 
leafy arches of the woods he bade his sister-in-law, 
his dear, sprightly cousin, to be his sole companion. 
Could she refuse the King ? No, indeed ! Has she 
not herself told us, ' I would have died sooner than 
disobey him in anything.' Objecting nothing — care- 
less of opinion, of her own health — the obedient 
girl remained at times in the forest during those 
summer nights until the day had dawned ere Louis 
escorted her home to the Palace." 

These days of summer madness, however, could 
not last for ever. The Queen-Mother was furious 
when news of them came to her ears ; Monsieur was, 
or affected to be, consumed with rage and jealousy ; 
and between the two Louis had a very unpleasant 
time, from which he emerged with promises of better 
behaviour in the future. But kings are no less 
forgetful of promises or fertile in expedients than 
their subjects ; and under the cloak of making love 
to Louise de la Valliere, the prettiest of her ladies 
in waiting, Louis contrived to spend many stolen 
and blissful hours in the company of Madame. It 
was not long, however, before his fickle fancy found 
greater fascination in the lady than in her mistress ; 
and before Madame realised his disloyalty the heart 
of her royal lover had been transferred to Louise s 
keeping. 

Deserted by the King and by her husband, whose 
pleasure lay in masquerading as a lady and revelling 
with his mignons, Henrietta was not long in finding 
abundant solace in another lover. For a long time 
Arnaud de Guiche, a handsome cadet of an old 



62 THE TRAGEDY OF A QUEEN OF HEARTS 

family of the French noblesse, had vainly aspired to 
the favour of the Duchess of Orleans. Dowered 
with birth, exceptional good looks and charming 
manners, his ambition was to inspire a grand 
passion in the Princess, whose fascinations had 
enslaved him ; but to all his overtures Madame, 
whose heart was better occupied elsewhere, was 
blind. _ 

Now, however, that the King's ardour had cooled, 
she was more at liberty to pay attention to less 
exalted wooers. Her curiosity was piqued ; and she 
at last consented not only to receive but to read 
the Comte's passionate letters, which were conveyed 
to her by Mademoiselle Montalais, one of her ladies. 
The whim seized her to reply to them ; and thus 
an innocent flirtation began which culminated one 
day when Mademoiselle Montalais ushered into her 
bedroom a woman dressed as a fortune-teller, the 
sorceress being none other than the amorous young 
de Guiche in disguise. 

When this escapade reached the ears of Louis 
through the indiscretion of his new mistress, Made- 
moiselle de la Valliere, his rage and jealousy knew 
no bounds. He read her a severe lecture on her 
wickedness, insisted that Mademoiselle Montalais 
should be sent about her business, and packed the 
too gallant young Count off to the wars to cool his 
ardour. Before leaving, however, de Guiche sought 
a private interview with the Princess which nearly 
ended in tragedy. " While the Comte, skilfully 
smuggled into the Palace, was saying good-bye to 
Madame, who should be unexpectedly announced 
but Monsieur, her husband ! The ever-vigilant 
Montalais had only time to whisper a warning, and 



THE TRAGEDY OF A QUEEN OF HEARTS 63 

the high-flown Guiche was obliged to fling dignity 
to the winds and escape like some ridiculous bourgeois 
lover in a similar predicament. When Monsieur 
entered his wife's apartment the Comte de Guiche 
was ia the chimney ! " 

Now that de Guiche was disposed of, there was 
no lack of other gallants eager to take his place 
in Madame's favour ; and of these suitors the most 
daring and successful was the Marquis de Vardes, 
one of the most debauched, as he was also one of 
the most handsome and brilliant men at the French 
Court. But Madame was in no mood to listen to 
his flatteries and to respond to his advances. She 
was still mourning the loss of the young Count who 
had been so summarily taken from her, and her 
heart was with him on the distant battlefield, 
where danger and death were his companions. 
But de Vardes was not the man to be easily spurned. 
If he could not win her favour by fair means he 
would not scruple to adopt foul ones, which soon 
came to his hand. 

He managed to get possession of de Guiche's 
letters to Madame — letters in which the young 
Count held up Louis to ridicule ; and, thus armed, 
the victory was his. He threatened to show the 
letters to the King. '* In an agony of fear Madame 
begged and prayed — she would kill herself rather 
than be exposed." '* Very well, then, Madame ; you 
can have them — upon my terms," said the polished 
villain. ** Your terms? Oh, I will consent to any 
terms ! " answered the distracted woman. ** What 
are they? I will agree." **Come to me," said de 
Vardes, " in the house of the Comtesse de Soissons : 
I will tell you there before I deliver you up the 



64 THE TRAGEDY OF A QUEEN OF HEARTS 

letters." Thus it was that Madame found herself 
helpless in the clutches of the most unprincipled 
scoundrel in France, who treated his victim with 
undisguised insolence now that she was in his power. 
As a sample of his treatment of Madame " he gave 
her a rendezvous in the house of gallantry, the 
fashionable parlour of the nunnery of Chaillot, a 
place much used in those days, under the cloak of 
visiting the nuns, for meetings between ladies and 
their lovers. Here he allowed Madame to stay, 
waiting for him — while, not deigning to keep his 
appointment, he went about the Court telling his 
friends where she was to be found." With a worth- 
less husband who cared only for his mignons, with 
the King's favour withdrawn, with her name bandied 
about in connection with that of first one disreput- 
able character and then another, low indeed had 
sunk the name of this royal princess of England, 
daughter of King Charles I. ! 

Meanwhile her husband seems to have troubled 
himself little about Madame's indiscretions, so 
absorbed was he in his own pursuit of pleasure. 
The degraded Duke had become more effeminate 
and debased than ever. Dressed in woman's 
clothes, painted, patched, affectedly aping woman's 
ways, Monsieur might now be seen going to balls, 
hanging, like any other young lady, upon the arm 
of the Chevalier de Lorraine, a handsome young 
man as dissolute as himself. Not content with his 
disgraceful proceedings abroad, the Duke established 
his latest favourite in the Palais Royal, where he 
not only ruled as master but encouraged the Duke 
in his contemptuous and brutal treatment of his 
wife. 



THE TRAGEDY OF A QUEEN OF HEARTS 65 

Fortunately it was not long before Madame was 
able to extricate herself from the terrible tangle in 
which she now found herself involved. In her 
despair she threw herself on the clemency of the 
King, making a frank avowal of all her indiscretions 
and her predicament, with the result that Louis, his 
chivalry and anger aroused, sent de Vardes to a 
dungeon at Montpellier. Lorraine was equally 
effectually disposed of ; for, having discovered some 
treasonable letters he had written, Madame showed 
them to the King, and the Chevalier, in spite of 
the Duke's tears and pleadings, was torn from his 
side and sent to the dungeon of the Chateau d'lf, 
near Marseilles. 

Thus set free at last from her entanglements 
Madame reasonably looked forward to a time of 
peace in which, profiting by her bitter experience, 
she might hope to live down the memory of her 
follies. But, as has been truly written, ''there is 
a terrible page in the book of human destinies ; 
at the head of it we read these words — accom- 
plished desires." Madame had drunk deep of the 
cup of pleasure which her worthless husband had 
denied her ; and, much as she had suffered, the 
price was not yet paid. Already the clouds of 
tragedy which were to shroud her life in eclipse 
were gathering over her head. The loss of his 
favourite had changed the brutal indifference of her 
husband into an implacable hate ; and he vowed a 
terrible vengeance on the wife who was the cause 
of the loss. ** He had now two burning desires 
which dwelt in him evilly like demons ; one was 
the return of the Chevalier ; the other the death of 
Madame." 

E 



66 THE TRAGEDY OF A QUEEN OF HEARTS 

We must hurry over Madame's visit to England 
to arrange the treaty which secured her brother's 
alliance to Louis on disgraceful terms, and tell the 
story of the closing tragedy of Madame's life. 
Three weeks after her triumphant return to Paris, 
she called for a glass of chicory water to quench 
her thirst (she had imprudently bathed in the Seine 
two days earlier and had caught a chill) ; and no 
sooner had she placed the empty glass down than she 
exclaimed in accents of horror, "I am poisoned!" 
At the cry and at the sight of her suffering the 
palace was thrown into confusion. The King and 
Queen, summoned from Versailles, arrived to be 
told that Madame was dying. "They found her 
writhing on a couch, pale, dishevelled, and scarcely 
recosrnisable from the convulsive movements that 
distorted her features." The doctors, however, 
pooh-poohed the idea of danger. " It is only colic," 
they declared, " which will not last more than 
a few hours " ; and, as the poor woman writhed in 
insupportable agony, the onlookers, thus reassured, 
talked and laughed and jested with what must have 
seemed to the dying Princess an inhuman indiffer- 
ence ; the most callous of all being her husband, 
who looked on at her sufferings with the utmost 
heartlessness. 

But Madame knew from the first that she was 
doomed. To her confessor, the Abbe Bossuet, she 
declared, *' I am dying. I have been poisoned — 
by mistake " ; while to the English Ambassador, 
who had been summoned, she said, '' You see the 
sad condition I am in. I am going to die. Ah ! 
how I pity the King, my brother, for I am sure 
that he loses the person in the world who loves 



THE TRAGEDY OF A QUEEN OF HEARTS 67 

him best." When the ambassador asked her if she 
thought she had been poisoned, a priest standing 
near quickly interposed, '' Madame, you must 
answer nobody, but offer up your Hfe as a sacrifice 
to God." As the end drew near Madame became 
so resigned to her fate that she was able to observe 
the symptoms of the coming end. '* Look, Madame 
de La Fayette," she said to one of the watching 
ladies, with a momentary return of her old gaiety, 
** look, my nose has shrunk already." 

To the last her thought was for others — not for 
herself. She sent loving messages to her brothers 
and her distant friends, and tenderly embraced her 
husband and her royal relatives. After a short 
sleep she recalled the Abbe Bossuet to her side and 
told him that she felt she was about to die. Taking 
the crucifix which, at her request, he handed to her, 
she kissed it passionately, declaring that **she loved 
God with all her heart." M. Bossuet continued 
speaking to her, and she replied as clearly as if she 
had never been ill, keeping the crucifix pressed to 
her lips to the last. Then her strength failed ; the 
crucifix dropped from her hands, and just as the 
first rays of dawn crept into the chamber, she 
breathed her last. 

Was Madame actually poisoned, or did she die 
a natural death ? On this question Saint-Simon 
throws interesting light. When news reached Louis 
that Madame was dead he sent for Simon Morel, 
her maitre cf hotel, and after a promise of pardon 
for whatever he personally might have done, asked 
him, ''Has not Madame been poisoned ? '* "Yes, 
Sire," was the answer. " And how and by whom 
was she poisoned } " He replied it was the Cheva- 



68 THE TRAGEDY OF A QUEEN OF HEARTS 

Her de Lorraine who had sent the poison from Italy 
to two of Monsieur's equerries. *' And," continued 
the King, " did my brother know anything of it ? " 
" No, Sire," answered Morel. " None of us three 
were fools enough to tell him. He cannot keep a 
secret, and he would have ruined us." 

Monsieur's innocence of this crime is further 
established by the statement of his second wife 
Madame, " La Palatine," who wrote thus : "A valet 
de chambre, who was with Madame, and later in 
my own service, told me that while Monsieur and 
Madame were at mass on the morning of the fatal 
day, Effiat (one of Monsieur's equerries) went to 
the sideboard and takino- Madame's orlass rubbed 
the inside with a paper, and that he, the valet, said 
\o him, * Monsieur d'Effiat, what are you doing in 
this room, and why do you touch Madame's glass ? ' 
Effiat replied, ' I am very thirsty and want some- 
thing to drink, and the glass being dirty I was 
cleaning it with some paper.' After dinner Madame 
asked for some chicory water, and as soon as she 
had swallowed it, she cried out, * I am poisoned.' 
All that were present drank of the same chicory 
water, but not from the same glass ; and so, of 
course, it did them no harm." 



A CROWNED MADMAN 

There was joy throughout Bavaria one August 
day in the year 1845, when the boom of cannon 
and the jubilant clashing of bells in a hundred 
steeples announced that the Crown Princess Marie, 
the ''Angel of God," as the good Bavarians called 
her, had given birth to an heir to the throne. 
Seldom has a royal infant made its d^but on the 
world's stage amid greater rejoicing or with a more 
brilliant life prospect. Queen Theresa held him 
in her arms at the baptismal font ; water from the' 
Jordan was sprinkled on him ; great monarchs were 
his sponsors, and he was given the name Ludwig, 
after his royal grandfather, then ruling, and after 
the patron saint on whose day of festival he had 
been born. 

Although the infant was cradled in luxury he 
grew to boyhood under such conditions of Spartan 
training as should have made a man of him in the 
best sense of the word. As boys, he and his 
younger brother, Otto, were fed on the plainest 
fare, their only substantial meal of the day consist- 
ing of bread and meat and cheese, a frugal diet 
which led Ludwig, when he came of age, to declare 
humorously, '* Now that I am my own master I 
mean to have chicken and pudding for dinner every 
day." That the royal boys, further, should not 
be able to purchase luxuries for themselves, their 
pocket-money was limited to the equivalent of two 
69 



70 A CROWNED MADMAN 

shillings a week — a stinginess against which Otto 
rebelled to such an extent that one day, hearing 
that a sound tooth was worth ten florins, he paid 
a visit to the nearest dentist and offered him his 
entire set of teeth, which he declared were of no 
use to him. 

The two princes were also taught trades — 
Ludwig, that of a builder, and Otto, that of a 
carpenter ; and in this connection an amusing story 
is told. After Ludwig had completed his short 
apprenticeship to a stonemason he went proudly to 
his mother to inform her that now he could lay 
bricks as cleverly as any man. " But," said the 
mother laughingly, ''do you think you could make 
a living at the trade ? " " Make my living at it ? " 
was the answer. " Why, I could make a fortune 
at it ; for, if I offered myself as a bricklayer, my 
master-mason would be glad to take me into 
partnership, as my name would bring him more 
business than my hands could do." 

But, in spite of this Spartan and robust training, 
Ludwig was from his earliest years a dreamer. 
One day, so the story goes, his tutor found him 
curled up on a couch in a darkened room. '* Your 
Highness," he said, ''ought to have something to 
occupy you. You must find the time very tedious." 
" Not at all," the boy answered ; " I think of lots of 
things and am perfectly happy." And so it always 
was with him. He would lie on his back for hours, 
dreamily watching the drifting clouds ; he would 
gaze spellbound at the shining expanse of a lake, 
lost to the material world in a world of his own ; 
while the glories of sunrise or sunset would trans- 
port him into ecstasies. Once, it is said, he was 




LOUIS II., KING OF BAVARIA. 



A CROWNED MADMAN 71 

found at midnight sitting in a deep reverie among 
the tombs in the churchyard at Berchtesgaden. 

His happiest hours of boyhood were those spent 
at the lovely castle of Hohenschwangau in its 
romantic environment of mountains and lakes, 
where he would converse with his knightly an- 
cestors pictured on the walls, weave romances 
round mythical Rhine maidens, and listen greedily 
to stories of goblins, sprites and gnomes. In the 
presence of strangers he was morbidly shy, refusing 
to speak to or even look at them ; while he ex- 
hibited the utmost repugnance to ugliness in any 
form. Such was his horror that if anyone ill- 
favoured came into his presence he would resolutely 
close his eyes or hide himself behind curtains, until 
the offensive presence was withdrawn. 

Was the boy mad ? There is little doubt that, 
even in these early years, the insanity which so 
tragically eclipsed his life in later years had begun 
to manifest itself, as the following story, one of 
many, seems to prove. One day, a Court official, 
walking through a remote part of the palace 
grounds at Berchtesgaden, came upon a strange 
spectacle. Otto lay on the ground gagged and 
bound, hand and foot, while around his throat was 
a handkerchief which his brother, Ludwig, was 
twisting tightly by means of a piece of stick. 
When the official in alarm rushed to the rescue of 
the boy, who was almost black in the face, Ludwig 
stoutly resisted him, shrieking, '' This has nothing to 
do with you. This is my vassal ; he has opposed 
my will and I am going to kill him." And it was 
only by the exercise of considerable force that the 
unhappy Otto was delivered from a terrible fate. 



72 A CROWNED MADMAN 

In spite, however, of his dreaminess and morbid 
shyness Ludwig was not lacking in manly qualities. 
He became skilled beyond most of his fellows in many 
athletic accomplishments. He was an expert fencer 
and horseman ; could swim and shoot with skill ; 
and was passionately fond of all things warlike — 
the flash of bayonets, the tramp of armed men, the 
blare of trumpets and all the pomp and circum- 
stance of war. Of his early days of horsemanship, 
by the way, an amusing and characteristic story is 
told. One day, while learning to ride, the horse 
threw him and, as he lay in the sawdust, his in- 
structor was imprudent enough to laugh at his 
predicament. The Prince was furious, and, as he 
rose to his feet, exclaimed, *' I wish you would be 
good enough to teach me to fall in a way that 
would not amuse you. There should be nothing 
comical in an accident which might happen to a 
good rider before a hundred thousand men." 

To his accomplishments the Prince, as he grew 
towards manhood, added a rare physical beauty. 

''At eighteen," writes one who knew him, "he 
presented a most striking appearance ; he was, 
indeed, the most idealistic youth I have ever seen. 
His figure, tall, slight and graceful, had perfect 
symmetry of form ; his luxuriant hair, slightly 
curled, gave his head a resemblance to those 
magnificent works of ancient art in which we find 
the first manifestations of the Hellenic idea of 
manly strength." But his most remarkable feature 
was his eyes, "large, grey and luminous, magnetic, 
with the indescribable plaintiveness of one set 
apart, veritable windows through which were 
caught sudden and bewildering glimpses of a dis- 



A CROWNED MADMAN 73 

traught soul." It was those eyes, magnetic, haunt- 
ing and inexpressibly sad, which more than 
anything else revealed the disordered brain that 
lay behind them. 

That there must have been some strange fascina- 
tion about this young Prince is proved by the enthusi- 
astic tributes paid to him by Wagner, whose patron 
he was. " He is so handsome and intelfigent," 
wrote the great composer, **so splendid and so full 
of soul, that I fear lest his life should vanish like a 
fleeting dream of gods in this vulgar world. . . . 
Of the magic of his eye, you can form no notion ; 
if only he be granted life — it is too rare a miracle." 

Such was Ludwig when, at the age of eighteen, 
he succeeded, amid almost delirious rejoicing, to 
the throne of Bavaria on his father's death. And 
seldom has a king's reign opened more auspiciously. 
For a time Ludwig, by a supreme effort, seems to 
have shaken off his morbid and solitary habits, and 
to have devoted himself whole-heartedly to his new 
and responsible duties. He presided at councils; 
received ambassadors with captivating grace of 
manner ; and won all hearts by his amiability and 
clemency. He held reviews of his soldiers, making 
a gallant figure as, with plumed helmet and gold 
spurs, he rode on to the Field of Mars mounted on 
a white charger and surrounded by a brilliant galaxy 
of his generals ; and we get another impressive 
picture of him as, with bare head and reverend 
mien, he walked behind the Host, attended 
by bishops and princes, ministers of state and 
councillors through the garlanded streets of his 
capital. 

Never did a king seem less mad than this 



74 A CKOWNED MADMAN 

**hope and pride of Bavaria," this handsome young 
monarch who captivated every heart he ruled. 
But the madness was all there ; and, in spite of all 
his efforts, was gaining daily, as we shall soon 
see. 

Not many months after Ludwig had come to 
his throne Bavaria heard with delight that he had 
chosen a bride to share it with him — none other 
than his cousin, the beautiful and universally- 
beloved Princess Sophie Charlotte. Medals were 
struck in honour of the auspicious event ; hundreds 
of hands worked day and night to prepare for the 
coming festivities ; and, at a cost of a million 
gulden, a magnificent bridal carriage, adorned with 
rose-wreathed Cupids and ablaze with gold decora- 
tions, was built for the royal couple. Ludwig was 
ideally happy, and spent his days driving his bride- 
to-be through the cheering avenues of Munich, or 
wooing her in a boat on Lake Starnberg. And 
then, when the tide of joyful anticipation was at its 
very height, and when the preparations for the 
splendid nuptials were almost complete, Ludwig 
refused point-blank to go to the altar ; the bride was 
sent home in tears ; and his subjects were left to 
make the best of their disappointment. 

Another would-be bride was soon found for the 
fickle monarch — an Austrian archduchess, who was 
confident that the King could not resist her beauty 
and fascinations. One day when Ludwig was walk- 
ing moodily in his private garden he came, at a turn 
of the pathway, face to face with this charming 
young lady gathering roses in affected ignorance 
of his proximity. Glancing up in surprise she saw 
the young King's eyes ablaze with anger, and she 



A CROWNED MADMAN 75 

was greeted with such a torrent of abuse that she 
fled from him in terror and tears, and nothing would 
induce her to meet him a second time. 

The King's insanity, of which his heartless treat- 
ment of the ladies designed as his brides was, no 
doubt, a manifestation, now became more pro- 
nounced. His boyish love of solitude returned in 
an aggravated form, and was allied to eccentricities 
of which strange and almost incredible stories are 
told. In fact from this time forth he was hopelessly 
mad. By day, we are told, he was assailed by 
nameless and horrible fears ; at night he would 
dream of bloodstained faces, with flaming hair, 
circling over his bed and watching him with 
mocking and hissing lips, until, in his dread and 
agony, he would rush out of the palace, mount a 
horse, and ride madly through the night, through 
dark forests, and by frowning precipices — anywhere 
to escape the horrible phantoms of his brain ; or, 
in less excited moods, he would repair to a hut 
hidden away in the heart of a neighbouring wood, 
clothe himself in skins, and while away the hours 
by playing on a reed. 

In his more lucid intervals he would summon 
opera-singers to his palace and listen to their 
singing as he floated dreamily over the lake in the 
winter garden he had constructed on his palace 
roof. In this garden of wonders and delights 
*' large branched palms waved their graceful leaves, 
rare orchids of varied hues bloomed in prodigal 
profusion, parroquets flitted to and fro, and lotus 
blossoms covered the still waters on which the 
golden boat floated. The roof was garlanded with 
countless roses ; fountains played musically ; on the 



76 A CROWNED MADMAN 

walls mountain landscapes were painted so skilfully 
as to give an impression of space and distance ; 
and the waters of the lake were coloured blue and 
scented with violets." 

When the mood seized him he would take as 
companion in his boat the favourite opera-singer 
of the moment, of one of whom an entertaining 
story is told. The favoured lady was Fraulein 
Schefszky, a prima donna of opulent charms and 
commensurate vanity. In an impulse of mischiev- 
ous daring this lady, observing that Ludwig was 
lost in reverie, passed her fingers through his hair. 
The consequence was instantaneous and startling. 
The King, furious at such familiarity, pushed the 
fraulein away so violently that he upset the boat, 
and he and his companion, drenched and dis- 
illusioned, had to be rescued by means of a boat- 
hook. 

At other times Ludwig, attired as Lohengrin, 
with sword, shield and towering crest, would spend 
the night on the lake in a gilded, shell-shaped 
coracle, drawn by a swan, while vari-coloured 
lamps and torches lit up the scene, feather fans 
cooled the air, and soft music came stealing from 
between the thick curtains of foliage. Or he would 
listen to Wagner's operas seated alone, the only 
listener in a theatre shrouded in darkness, occa- 
sionally, if anything displeased him, breaking out 
in a fury of abuse of the unfortunate performers. 

On one such occasion, when the King was the 
sole audience, a curious scene took place. In the 
piece a great storm is introduced ; the theatre thunder 
rolled, the theatre wind blew, the noise of rain 
falling began. The King grew more and more 



A CROWNED MADMAN 77 

excited, he was carried out of himself. He called 
from his box in a loud voice, ** Good, very good [ 
Excellent ! But I wish to have real rain. Turn 
on the water ! " The manager ventured to remon- 
strate ; he spoke of the ruin to the decorations, the 
silk and velvet hangings, and so on ; but the King 
would not listen. " Never mind, never mind ! I 
wish to have real rain. Turn on the cocks ! " So 
it was done. The water deluged the stage ; it 
streamed over the painted flowers, the painted 
hedges and the summer houses ; the singers in 
their fine costumes were wet from head to foot ; 
but they tried to ignore the situation. They sang 
on bravely. The King was in the seventh heaven. 
He clapped his hands and cried, "Bravo! More 
thunder ! More lightning ! Make it rain harder ! 
Let all the pipes loose ! More ! More ! I will 
hang anyone who dares to put up an umbrella ! " 

As the years passed, Ludwig's love of solitude 
grew on him to such an extent that even in his 
palaces he could nowhere find the seclusion his 
moods demanded. At such times he would dis- 
appear suddenly and mysteriously to some remote 
village, where he could stay perdu at an inn or 
farmhouse. If by any chance he were recognised 
he would vanish again to seek an asylum else- 
where, where none saw in the moody, taciturn 
stranger the King of Bavaria. When his ministers 
remonstrated with him on these absences he would 
answer, '' It is incumbent on a Prince to meditate 
on the duties of his calling, which he can surely 
do better when alone with God and nature than 
in the confusion of a Court." 

It was not only in these directions that Ludwig's 



78 A CROWNED MADMAN 

insanity manifested itself. He developed a mania 
for building new palaces, and equipping them at 
fabulous cost. Not content with his sumptuous 
and stately castle of Hohenschwangau, he built, 
on the spur of an adjacent mountain over 3000 
feet high, a still more splendid pile, Neuschwan- 
stein — a castle, according to Mennell, which ** far 
surpasses any building of modern times, and is 
the Walhalla of artistic minds." While Neusch- 
wanstein was rearing its towers, minarets, and 
spires to the skies he began to build another 
palace, called Linderhof, more magnificent still, 
modelled on the famous Trianon. A castle, this, 
of white marble of spectral beauty, crowded from 
roof to floor with the rarest furniture money could 
buy, with gold -framed mirrors, busts in marble 
and bronze, priceless tapestries, Sevres vases and 
figures, and bric-a-brac gathered, regardless of 
cost, from all quarters of the world. One of the 
many magnificent rooms in this palace of wonders 
was crowded with silver and gold ornaments set 
with precious stones, furniture and curtains of 
velvet or silk, richly embroidered hangings or 
Gobelins tapestry, copied from the tapestry woven 
for Louis XIV. under the direction of Andr6 and 
Boucher ; magnificent clocks, candelabras, brackets, 
and hanging lustres and lights, all reflected by a 
hundred mirrors set in gold frames. 

The gardens, with their terraces and lawns, 
statues and lakes, were made a miracle of beauty ; 
while near was a blue grotto designed to imitate 
that wonderful product of nature at Capri. By 
an electrical contrivance the waters of this grotto 
assumed in turn all the colours of the rainbow, 



A CROWNED MADMAN 79 

while Ludwig, dressed as Lohengrin, floated on 
them in a splendid barge drawn by swans. 
Higher up, in the thickest part of the woods, he 
built a hut, which in all ways resembled that in 
one of the scenes of Wagner's opera Walkiire. 
Here, when he grew weary of the splendours of 
his Trianon Palace, he would come for change, 
and spend his time, dressed in skins, playing 
upon a reed. 

Still Ludwig's ambition was not satisfied. 
Another palace, still more splendid than its two 
predecessors, was begun on the desolate island 
of Herrenworth, the centre of a large lake border- 
ing the great forest of Chiemsee. On this island, 
remote from the ways of men, environed by an 
unbroken solitude, the mad King proposed to erect 
a palace which should eclipse all the splendours of 
Versailles. But this palace of fairy enchantment 
was destined never to be completed. The part 
that is completed, however, is of almost indescrib- 
able splendour ; especially the Hall of Mirrors 
with its prodigal decoration of gold and rich 
carving, and with its thirty-three golden lustres 
holding 2500 candles. *' It is literally true," says 
Dr Alexander M. Smith, "that after seeing the 
magnificence of the apartments in Herrenschiem- 
see, the Czar's rooms in the Winter Palace are 
simply commonplace, and Windsor Castle seems 
barren and shabby. As for the Mirror- room, 
there is nothing on earth can vie with it in 
richness." But in all this ultra regal magnifi- 
cence Ludwig could find no enjoyment. **With 
great difficulty," says the author of ** Ludwig H. u. 
die Kunst," ** was a wink of sleep to be had in 



80 A CROWNED MADMAN 

the lit de repos (which, by the way, was large 
enough to accommodate a dozen sleepers, and 
the curtains and quilts of which had taken seven 
years to embroider) ; the dining-table was so laden 
with gilt supports that there was no room for 
the King's legs. The writing-table was almost 
useless from the quantity of china and heavy 
brass with which it was laden." 

While Ludwig was squandering millions on his 
new palaces, his poor distracted brain gave him no 
peace night or day. Unable to sleep, he spent 
many of the night hours racing through the dark- 
ness in a sleigh drawn by six swift horses. " The 
sudden appearance of the royal sleigh at night in 
some unexpected quarter," says Mennell, " seems 
like a scene out of a fairy-tale. As it approaches 
it looks like a golden swan with wings displayed. 
Within, one may see the pale-faced King reclining 
upon richly-embroidered blue velvet cushions. The 
interior of the sleigh is lit up by a soft but brilliant 
electric light. It dashes by the wondering spectator, 
who has hardly time to notice the agrafe of brilliants 
which adorns the artist's hat worn by the King, or 
the uniform of the young aide-de-camp by his side." 

There is little doubt that Ludwig's mental 
malady was aggravated when his younger brother, 
Otto, was pronounced insane and was placed under 
restraint in the castle of Nymphenbourg. His 
grief at parting from his beloved brother was heart- 
rending, and from that moment he seems to have 
realised that a similar fate would inevitably over- 
take himself. He shrank more and more from his 
fellow-men, and his insanity began to manifest 
itself in new and startling ways. He would, for 



A CROWNED MADMAN 81 

instance, spit in the faces of his servants, and, when 
they offended him in the slightest degree, assaulted 
them so violently that thirty were more or less 
seriously injured, while one died from his blows. 
He inflicted the most grotesque punishments on 
those who incurred his displeasure ; a valet who 
had dared to look him in the face was condemned 
to wear a black mask for a year, and a footman was 
made to dress as a fool and ride a donkey through 
the streets of Munich. 

He refused to hold any communication with his 
ministers, except through his grooms and stable- 
boys. One day he had a fantastic notion of found- 
ing a kingdom in Arabia ; the next he threatened 
to banish his ministers to America. In his lighter 
moods he would have a carriage drawn by peacocks ; 
or would smoke opium, and drink Rhine wine and 
champagne served in a crystal bowl, with rose- 
leaves and violets floating on its surface. And 
these were but a few of the grotesque eccentricities 
which now placed his madness beyond all question. 
His subjects, who had borne the burden of his 
extravagance and had tolerated his insane freaks 
so long and so patiently, began at last to clamour 
for his deposition. They had lost none of the old 
love he had won as a boy ; but he was mad, hope- 
lessly mad, and unfit to reign over them. A com- 
mission was appointed to inquire into his insanity, 
and reported that " the mind of his Majesty is 
completely darkened ; he is rendered incapable of 
exercising the functions of government and this 
incapability is incurable.'* When news of this 
report and his threatened deposition reached Lud- 
wig his rage knew no bounds. '* I could endure to 



82 A CROWNED MADMAN 

have the government taken from me," he exclaimed ; 
** but to be declared insane, that I cannot outlive." 

When the commissioners appointed to inform the 
King of his deposition arrived at Neuschwanstein, 
they found the castle guarded by a battalion of 
soldiers whom the King had summoned to his 
assistance ; while from all directions poured fierce, 
brawny-armed peasants ready to shed the last drop 
of their blood in defence of the Sovereign they 
loved so well in spite of his madness ; and so 
menacing was the aspect of things that they were 
obliged to beat an ignominious retreat. When, 
however, they returned on the following day, so 
alarmed had the King's defenders become at his 
threats to commit suicide, that they were admitted. 

'* Suddenly," says Dr Miiller, one of the commis- 
sioners, " we heard a firm tread, and a man of 
imposing height stood at the entrance of the 
corridor and conversed in short, decisive sentences 
with a servant, who exhibited an almost slavish 
deference. The keepers came from their places 
above and below. At the same moment we went 
towards the room the King had left and cut off his 
return. With great promptitude two of the keepers 
had seized the King by the arms. Dr Gudden 
came forward and said, * Majesty, this is the saddest 
task that has ever fallen to my lot. Your Majesty's 
case has been studied by four specialists on madness, 
and from the report made by them, your Majesty's 
uncle. Prince Luitpold, has been entrusted with the 
regency. I shall have the honour of conducting 
your Majesty to the Castle of Berg.' " The King 
allowed himself to be led to his bedroom and there, 
** pale and haggard, with wild eyes and twitching 



A CROWNED MADMAN 83 

lips," he awaited the carriage which soon conveyed 
him to the castle, which for one brief day was to be 
his prison and asylum. 

And now the end of this tragic and pathetic story 
draws swiftly near. On the day following his 
removal to Berg, Ludwig, who appeared calm at 
last and resigned to his fate, was taken by Dr 
Gudden, his medical attendant, for a walk in the 
castle grounds. The darkness fell, the rain began 
to fall heavily, and neither had returned. A feeling 
of anxiety gave place to one of alarm and con- 
sternation. Searching parties were despatched with 
lanterns in all directions to look for the missing 
monarch and his companion ; and as a last resource 
a boat was sent to explore the dark waters of the 
lake. 

^* We were not rowing," says Dr Mliller, ''when 
Huber suddenly cried out and sprang into the 
water, which reached to his chest ; he clasped in his 
arms a body which was floating down the stream. 
It was the King in his shirt-sleeves. A few steps 
behind came a second corpse — Dr Gudden. I 
drew him into the boat and was rowed to the shore. 
There the keepers came to help us, and we lifted 
the bodies out of the boat. Both were, as I said 
at the time, without pulse or breath ; the stiffness 
of death had already set in. . . . On our arrival 
at the castle the examination was gone into. While 
the King's body showed no marks of violence, 
Gudden's face was covered with scratches. Over 
the right eye was a large black mark, or bruise, 
as if given by a blow of the fist. The face of the 
dead King wore a gloomy, domineering, almost 
tyrannical expression ; Gudden's features had the 



84 A CROWNED MADMAN 

kindly smile which in life had made him so many 
friends. ..." The physician had sacrificed his 
life in a vain attempt to save that of his royal 
master. 

A few days later the King's body lay in the 
chapel of the royal castle at Munich, under a pall 
of blue silk, smothered with flowers, the tribute 
of his mourning subjects. From far and near 
thousands flocked to pray and weep by his bier. 
Seldom have been witnessed such scenes of grief 
as were seen in this church, dark save for the lights 
standing like sentinels around the blue - draped 
catafalque. None remembered now the long tale 
of his later follies and extravagances. Death had 
effaced them all and there only remained the 
memory of "our Ludwig," the handsome, gifted, 
generous King who had won all hearts while he 
was yet a boy. 



THE REINCARNATION OF A 
PRINCESS 

A FAMILIAR figure in the streets of Brussels a 
century and a half ago was that of a silver-haired, 
benevolent-looking old lady, who still retained 
traces of youthful beauty and who wore an air of 
distinction out of keeping with the plainness, almost 
shabbiness, of her attire. As she passed along the 
streets of the Belgian capital many a head was 
turned for a second glance at a face which, with 
its mingled sweetness and dignity, was somehow 
different from other faces, and many wondered who 
she was. To a few it was known that her name 
was Madame d'Aubant ; that she lived unobtru- 
sively in a small house in the suburbs ; and that 
when she left her house it was usually on some 
errand of charity to the poorer quarter of the town. 
Curious neighbours had tried to pierce the veil of 
mystery which enveloped her ; but their curiosity 
was met by Madame d'Aubant with silence, or 
polite evasions. Of her past she resolutely declined 
to speak. 

That she had "seen better days" was a fact 
obvious to the least observant. Her quiet dignity 
of speech and bearing, her grace and courtesy, all 
pointed to a past far removed from her present ; 
but how far removed that past was and through 
what romantic and tragic vicissitudes she had since 
come, none dreamt in their most extravagant 
85 



86 THE REINCARNATION OF A PRINCESS 

speculations ; for Madame d'Aubant, who led her 
peaceful life amid the shabby gentility of a Brussels 
suburb, had been born to one of the most splendid 
destinies in Europe, and had at one time had an 
Imperial crown within her reach. More remark- 
able still, half-a-century earlier many of the royalties 
of Europe had actually worn mourning for her and 
made pilgrimages to her grave. 

More than seventy years before this story opens, 
this lady of mystery had been cradled in a palace 
amid general rejoicing — the daughter of Lewis 
Rudolphus, Duke of Brunswick Wolfenbuttel, and 
Christina Louise, Princess of Oettingen. The 
infant had in her veins the blood of a hundred 
kings, and to this proud heritage was added that of 
beauty. As a blue-eyed child, with her little head 
running over with golden curls, the merry, mischief- 
loving princess was the pet of her father's Court 
and the idol of his subjects. They called her the 
''fairy princess"; and, as she flitted and danced 
through the corridors of her palace-home, she 
seemed indeed, to quote a contemporary writer, 
" more like a lovely elf than a creature of flesh and 
blood." And this childish promise of beauty was 
realised as she grew to young womanhood, *'tall 
and of indescribable grace of carriage and move- 
ment, her dainty head crowned with coils of hair 
which seemed to have caught the sunshine in its 
meshes, eyes blue as violets and dancing with the 
joy of life, a complexion of dazzling fairness, and a 
small mouth, of exquisite sweetness." 

Such was the enthusiastic description, by one who 
knew her, of the Princess Charlotte Louise on the 
threshold of womanhood ; and when, to these 



THE REINCARNATION OF A PRINCESS 87 

physical charms, we add a sunny disposition, a 
sprightly wit and a heart full of tenderness and 
sympathy, which manifested themselves In a thou- 
sand acts of charity to the poor, we get some 
conception of the fascination which the young 
Princess exercised over the hearts and minds of 
all. 

It was inevitable that such a peerless young lady 
should soon have lovers by the score at her feet. 
From almost every court in Europe men of high 
degree came to woo her ; but to one and all she 
turned a cold, if adorable, shoulder. She was too 
young, she declared, to sacrifice her treasured 
freedom to any lover, however eligible and highly 
placed ; and, so far, none had come who could even 
touch her heart. It was at this period, so the story 
is told, that the Princess, while at Berlin, paid a 
visit to a fortune-teller. '' Accompanied by a maid, 
and shabbily dressed, she presented herself before 
the ' magician ' to discover what the future had in 
store for her. * I see you,' said the prophet as he 
gazed into his crystal, * standing before the altar in 
a great cathedral. By your side is a tall handsome 
young man In a gorgeous uniform with many de- 
corations. He is a Prince and heir to a great 
Throne. . . . Now,' he continued, ' I see a church- 
yard. It is night, and round an open grave stands 
a small knot of people under the flickering light of a 
torch ; the coffin is lowered and the mourners walk 
away talking together in whispers. . . . The scene 
changes. Now there appears a low, rambling 
house standing In a large expanse of country. 
It is some distant land, across the seas ; and in 
front of the house I see you walking, holding a little 



88 THE REINCARNATION OF A PRINCESS 

girl by the hand and chatting brightly to a middle- 
aged soldierly man who walks by your side. . . .' 
* Enough,' exclaimed the girl, half in fright and half 
in impatience. ' This is impossible, absurd — it 
cannot possibly be me that you see.' * That is as 
you please,' answered the magician placidly : ' I 
can only tell you what the crystal reveals ; and, 
strange as it may seem, time will certainly bring all 
to pass that I have told you.'" 

The Princess had dismissed this disturbing in- 
cident from her memory, or if she recalled it at all, 
it was only to dismiss it again with a merry laugh, 
when there came to her father's Court a suitor more 
handsome than any who had preceded him. The 
new-comer was none other than Alexei Petrovitch, 
eldest son of Peter the Great and heir to the throne 
of Russia. Towering head and shoulders over the 
tallest courtiers, broad-shouldered, dark-eyed and 
handsome above his fellows, this young Russian 
seemed to the Princess a veritable king of men, her 
ideal of a lover and a husband ; and it was not long 
before the citadel of her heart capitulated to his 
bold assaults. If she remembered at all the prince 
of the crystal-vision it was only to smile happily 
at the strange coincidence ; and no fear for the 
future entered the heart in which love now reigned 
supreme. She would some day be an empress, like 
her sister Elizabeth ; and she knew that she would 
always rule the heart of her consort, who was so 
passionately, almost fiercely, devoted to her. 

A few months later the " fairy princess," as lovely 
and supremely happy a girl as ever wore a bridal 
veil, was led to the altar by the Tsarevitch of Russia, 
to the clashing of bells and the booming of cannon, 



THE REINCARNATION OF A PRINCESS 89 

and amid universal rejoicings. It was an ideal 
union, the world thought ; but those who knew the 
bridegroom's character feared, and with reason, for 
what was to come. In Russia strange stories were 
told of Alexei's doings — how he was subject to 
attacks of uncontrollable rage, in which he would 
seek to kill any who gave him offence ; how he 
found his chief pleasures among the lowest associ- 
ates, drinking and revelling with them, and indulg- 
ing in vulgar amours. Alexei was mad, so they 
declared, a man who ought to be placed under 
control. 

For a few brief weeks Charlotte's dreams of 
happiness were more than realised. Her husband 
worshipped her, was not happy apart from her, 
and surrounded her with evidences of his passionate 
devotion. But ardour so fierce as this could not 
last long with Alexei, as those who knew him 
confidently predicted. Before the honeymoon had 
long waned, he grew weary of his pretty toy ; his 
low companions and pursuits called him back ; and, 
for the first time, the horrible truth began to dawn 
on Charlotte that the husband to whom she had 
surrendered her happiness was a heartless, debased 
man. 

Any lingering doubts she may have had as to his 
true character were soon dispelled. From neglect- 
ing his wife, and driving her to despair by his 
coldness and his low amours, of which he boasted to 
her, he began to treat her with physical violence. 
On the slightest provocation, even without the least 
semblance of it, he would strike her, or lock her 
for days in her bedroom. On three occasions he 
tried to poison her, and each failure seemed to fan 



90 THE REINCARNATION OF A PRINCESS 

the flames of his insane hatred. Even when he 
knew that she was expecting to become a mother, 
the knowledge, so far from softening him, added to 
his cruelty, until one day the crowning scene in this 
tragedy of wedded life came. In one of his par- 
oxysms of rage, he knocked her down, kicked her 
repeatedly as she lay senseless on the ground at his 
feet, and left her bathed with blood to join his 
companions at a low tavern. When, a few hours 
later, news was brought to him that his wife's life 
was despaired of, he rose unsteadily to his feet, 
shattered his glass in a hundred fragments on the 
floor, and shrieked, ** Let her die ! The sooner the 
better ! " When a second messenger arrived to 
inform him that his wife had died, after giving birth 
prematurely to a daughter, he muttered in maudlin 

tones, "That's all right. Bury the ! get her 

out of the way as soon as you can." 

A few hours later, at dead of night, a coffin was 
carried stealthily out of the palace, placed on a 
waiting cart, and, accompanied by four or five 
mourners, was conveyed to a neighbouring cemetery, 
where a grave had already been prepared. There, 
as seen in the prophet's vision, the coffin was 
silently lowered into the grave by the light of a 
flickering torch, and as the first spadeful of earth 
fell on it, the mourners returned to the palace. 
The Princess Charlotte was dead to the world, and 
mourning was worn in more than one European 
court over a life cut so tragically short. 

That she was not actually dead we know. The 
report of her death, and the mock funeral, were 
part of a clever scheme devised by a few faithful 
retainers to free their mistress once for all from the 



THE REINCARNATION OF A PRINCESS 91 

tyranny of her brutal husband ; and the short burial 
service was read, not over her body, but over a log 
of wood which took her place in the coffin. Mean- 
while the Princess herself was lying between life 
and death, unconscious of the methods her friends 
were taking to rescue her from a life of misery. 
Under the direction of the Countess of Konigsmark, 
mother of the future celebrated Mar^chal Saxe, her 
jewels and most prized private belongings were 
gathered together ; and long before the day dawned 
she was smuggled out of the palace, and in the 
company of one of her ladies of the chamber, and 
an old and trusted man-servant, was taken by slow 
stages to Paris, to begin her life anew, away from 
the splendours and horrors of the Court she had 
left for ever. 

Many weeks passed before health returned to 
Charlotte, and with it the glad knowledge that she 
was free at last from the brutalities of her husband. 
As the wife of the heir to the Russian throne she 
was dead ; she would lay aside for ever her royal 
rank, and in the low, obscure walks of life would 
try to recover some of the happiness she had lost. 
But she realised that in Paris there was no safety 
for her. At any moment she might be seen and 
recognised by someone who knew her — a thought 
which naturally filled her with dread. She must 
fly somewhere — anywhere, to the other side of the 
world, where at least she might hope to live 
unknown. A few weeks later, with her two loyal 
attendants, she found herself across the Atlantic, in 
the new colony of Louisiana, which then held but 
a sprinkling of rough and widely scattered settlers 
among the savage natives. 



92 THE REINCARNATION OF A PRINCESS 

At last she felt that she could breathe the air of 
freedom and live in peace without any fear of 
detection. But could she ? Before she had been 
many days in Louisiana she was recognised by a 
man who had seen her as a beautiful girl — the 
Chevalier d'Aubant, a soldier who, like herself, had 
retired from the world to that distant colony. 
There could be no possible mistake. The pale- 
faced, sad-eyed lady could be none other than the 
lovely Princess whom he had seen both at Brunswick 
and Berlin, and to whose beauty he had drunk 
many a toast with his brother officers. Happily 
she did not recognise him — nor was she likely to, 
for he was but one of thousands of her unknown 
admirers — and no word of recognition should 
escape his lips. That she was in trouble was a 
sufficient appeal to his chivalry, apart from his past 
admiration of her beauty. Alone in a strange and 
wild land she would need a friend, and it should be 
his privilege to be that friend. 

Making the acquaintance of her man-servant, he 
discovered that Madame Hersfeld, as she chose to 
be known, wished to make a settlement on the 
banks of the Mississippi, and he gallantly offered 
to make all the necessary arrangements, secretly 
supplementing her small resources with his own. 
Thus informally installed as madame's business 
agent (for to her the chivalrous stranger was 
nothing else), he accompanied her and her small 
retinue of two loyal servants into the far interior of 
Louisiana, where he had a comfortable if unpre- 
tentious house made for her by the waters of the 
Mississippi. At last the unhappy lady had found 
the peace she sought. To her the splendours of 



THE REINCARNATION OF A PRINCESS 93 

Court life were but a dim memory, the brutalities 
of her husband but the recollection of a troubled 
dream. The vast solitudes of the American prairie- 
land soothed her unrest ; and, surrounded by the 
ministrations of her three devoted friends, life 
became to her once more a thing to be desired and 
enjoyed. 

It is little to be wondered at that, thrown con- 
stantly into the society of a charming woman, whose 
beauty and helplessness made such an appeal to his 
chivalry, M. d'Aubant should be in danger of 
completely losing his heart ; or that the Princess, 
touched by his loyalty and devotion, should begin 
to feel a tenderer sentiment than that of gratitude 
for her protector, who was, moreover, a handsome 
man in the prime of life. 

One day the Chevalier felt himself impelled to 
tell the Princess that he had from their first meeting 
known the secret of her identity, an announcement 
which alarmed and distressed her very much. Was 
she never to find safety, even in this remote corner 
of the world ? — was she always to be pursued by 
this spectre of her unhappy past ? But her fears were 
soon allayed. ** You may rest assured, madame," 
said the Chevalier, ** that your secret is as safe with 
me as in your own breast. I would die a hundred 
deaths rather than betray your trust in me." And 
thus a new link was forged in the chain which 
bound these two lives together. 

At last news came that Alexei Petrovitch was 
dead. He had ended his days miserably in a 
Russian prison ; and the last shadow which had 
clouded the Princess's life was thus removed. She 
was now free to order her life as she would ; 



94 THE REINCARNATION OF A PRINCESS 

and the first use she made of her new liberty 
was to reward the devotion of her friend — who 
had now become much more than a friend — the 
ChevaHer d'Aubant. And a few weeks later the 
Princess, widow of the heir to the Russian throne 
and sister to the German Empress, became the 
wife of a retired army captain in the wilds of 
Louisiana. 

Then followed a period of happiness such as she 
had not known since the days of her girlhood ; of 
quiet, peaceful days with the husband who idolised 
her ; and, a year later, her happiness was crowned 
by the birth of a daughter who brought sunshine 
into their home. One day while she was walking 
with her husband and her little girl the vision of 
the Berlin clairvoyant flashed across her mind, and 
she told her husband the story of her romantic 
adventure and of the pictures of her future which 
the crystal had revealed and which had been so 
accurately realised — impossible, even grotesque, 
though they appeared at the time. 

After a few years of this idyllic life M. d'Aubant 
was attacked by an internal disease which needed 
the utmost surgical skill if his life was to be saved ; 
and for this purpose a return to Europe was un- 
avoidable. The property in Louisiana was sold ; 
the home in which so many happy years had been 
spent was broken up, and the Chevalier, with his 
wife and child, found themselves in Paris. The 
Princess might well have thought that after these 
long years of absence all fear of recognition, even 
in the capital of France, was at an end. But she 
had not been many days in Paris when, as she was 
walking with her daughter in the Tuileries gardens, 



THE KEINCARNATION OF A PRINCESS 95 

she met the Count de Saxe face to face. The 
recognition was instant and mutual. The Count 
raised his hat and with a profound bow greeted the 
Princess whom he had so often met at the Russian 
Court. That she was not dead he probably knew, 
for had not his mother been the chief instrument in 
her escape ? The Princess was horrified at this 
unfortunate meeting ; and in her dismay begged 
the Count not to betray her. "As regards the 
world at large," answered the Count, " I shall be 
happy to do as you wish, madame ; but I shall 
consider it my duty to inform his Majesty of your 
presence in Paris." ** But not at once," pleaded 
madame, ''give me a little time that I may arrange 
my affairs." '' I regret deeply, madame," was the 
answer, ''that I have no option in the matter. I 
must inform the King ; but I will give you my word 
of honour not to do so until three months have 
elapsed." 

Long, however, before this period had gone the 
Chevalier, restored to health, had obtained from the 
French East India Company the post of Mayor 
of the Island of Bourbon, and with his wife and 
child had set sail for the Indian Ocean ; and when 
at last her secret was revealed to Louis XV., 
his Majesty promptly wrote to the Governor of 
Bourbon instructing him to treat Madame d'Aubant 
with the utmost respect and attention, and to the 
Queen of Hungary informing her of the where- 
abouts of the aunt she had so long mourned as 
dead. 

Every effort was made by her royal relatives 
to induce Madame d'Aubant to leave her husband 
and to resume her rank and place in the world ; 



96 THE REINCARNATION OF A PRINCESS 

but to all appeals and remonstrances she turned 
a deaf ear. And in Bourbon she remained until, 
having lost both husband and daughter, she 
returned to Europe to spend in retirement and 
good deeds the remaining years of her troubled 
life. 



THE ROMANCE AND MYSTERY OF 

PAMELA 

Anyone who walks through the famous Cemetery 
of Montmartre may see, among the splendid monu- 
ments of long-gone greatness, a modest tombstone 
which bears the one word Pamela. There is no 
other clue, not even a date, to enlighten the stranger 
as to whose dust it is that lies below ; and to the 
question that must have sprung to thousands of 
lips, *' Who was Pamela ? " there is no answer. 

Not many miles away, in the splendid galleries 
of Versailles, is a picture called '' La Le9on de 
Harpe," which represents a girl of exquisite beauty 
and grace, in the act of turning over the leaves of 
a music-book ; and if one asks the custodian who 
was the original of this presentment of youth and 
loveliness, the answer is '* Pamela," as if the single 
word were all the explanation that could be offered. 

Who was Pamela, this maiden of the music 
lesson and of the modest tomb with its enigmatic 
epitaph ? When she lived, in all the radiance of 
her beauty, the playmate of royal children, or 
later, as the wife of a duke's son, none could 
answer this question satisfactorily ; and to-day, a 
century later, it is as inscrutable as ever. 

• ••••• • 

In the year 1777 there was a flutter of excitement 

in the nursery of the children of the Due de 

Chartres, later Due d'Orleans, and near kinsman 

of the King, for Madame de Genlis, their gover- 

G 97 



98 ROMANCE AND MYSTERY OF PAMELA 

ness, had told her royal charges that they would 
soon have a charming playfellow, who was coming 
all the way from England to share their games 
and studies ; and when at last the little stranger 
arrived the children found all their eager expecta- 
tions more than realised, for the new-comer was a 
child of extraordinary beauty — and, what was more 
to the point, as merry and mischievous as she was 
lovely. 

Who was this little fairy and where had she 
come from, were questions asked by many a curious 
person outside the household. Great lords and 
ladies of the Court asked them ; and tongues 
wagged mischievously in many a salon and boudoir. 
Some were bold enough to declare that the little 
stranger was the unacknowledged daughter of 
Madame de Genlis, whom she had thus smuggled 
under her care ; others, more venturesome still, 
more than suspected that the child would not be 
far wrong in calling the Due de Chartres '' father," 
and her royal playmates brothers and sisters ; 
while a few combined these conflicting speculations, 
and vowed that while the Due was her father, 
Madame was her mother. 

Madame de Genlis was perfectly frank as to the 
identity of the new inmate of the nursery. Her 
explanation was simplicity itself. It was her wish, 
she said, and that of the Due, that her charges 
should have as companion a little English girl, to 
share their play and their work. Mr Forth, a 
gentleman of the Due's household, had been sent 
to England to find a suitable child. During his 
wanderings Mr Forth had discovered in a small 
town in Hampshire the very child he was in search 



ROMANCE AND MYSTERY OF PAMELA 99 

of— a blue-eyed, golden-haired, winsome little maid 
of five summers, a fairy creature all sunshine and 
laughter. 

The little one's mother, who was living in great 
poverty, told the following story. A few years 
earlier, as Mary Simms, a girl of humble birth, she 
had been wooed and won by a Mr Seymour, a man 
of good family, who had run away with her 
to Newfoundland. There, their child, who was 
christened Nancy, was born ; and a little later the 
father had died. After her husband's death the 
widow returned to England with her little girl ; 
and, as her husband had been disinherited, and his 
relatives disowned her, she had been compelled to 
work for her living as best she could, earning 
barely sufficient to support herself and her daughter. 
When Mr Forth begged permission to take the 
little girl away, painting in glowing colours the 
brilliant future that awaited her as 2.protdgde of a 
royal prince, the distracted mother declared, with 
tears, that she could not possibly live without her 
child ; and it was only after long pleading and 
argument that, for her girl's sake, she at last 
consented to part with her. 

** When I began to be really attached to Pamela 
(the name which I had given her)," Madame de 
Genlis continued, ** I was very uneasy lest her 
mother might wish to claim her by legal process ; 
that is, lest she might threaten to do so in 
order to obtain money which it might have been 
out of my power to give. I consulted several 
English lawyers, and they told me that, in order 
to protect myself, I was to get the mother to 
give me her daughter as an apprentice, in return 



100 ROMANCE AND MYSTERY OF PAMELA 

for a payment of twenty-five guineas." This she 
succeeded in doing ; the necessary agreement was 
prepared and signed, and Pamela was given into 
madame's custody until she came of age. 

Such was Madame Genlis' story of how Pamela 
became an inmate of the Due de Chartres' nursery 
at the Palais Royal ; but, circumstantial as it was, it 
by no means silenced the tongue of slander, which 
persisted in hinting that Pamela was far from being 
the stranger she was represented to be. Indeed 
her strong likeness to her playfellows was alone 
sufficient to lend colour to the talk of the Court 
and of society ; for, as a contemporary writer 
says, "her astonishing resemblance to the Duke's 
children would have made her pass for their sister, 
were it not for her foreign accent." 

Pamela, happily innocent of the commotion she 
had caused in the world of fashion, was ideally 
happy in her new and splendid surroundings, to 
which she adapted herself as easily as if she had 
been cradled in a palace. Her high-born play- 
mates almost worshipped her, the greatest person- 
ages in France conspired to spoil her with their 
petting and presents ; while she completely cap- 
tivated the hearts of the Due de Chartres and 
Madame de Genlis, the latter of whom thus writes 
of her in her " Memoirs " : 

" I was passionately fond of her. This charming 
child was the most idle I ever knew ; she had no 
memory, she was very wild, which even added to the 
grace of her figure, as it gave her an air of vivacity. 
This, joined to her natural indolence, and to a great 
deal of wit, made her very engaging. Her figure 
was fine and light ; she flew like Atalanta." 



ROMANCE AND MYSTERY OF PAMELA 101 

Every year seemed to add to Pamela's graces 
of person and character. At sixteen she was 
described by one who knew her, as "a, creature 
born to win all hearts. There never was a girl 
more fascinating. She is beautiful, accomplished, 
and the possessor of a heart which would make 
her a treasure to any man who might gain her." 
The fame of her beauty went through all France 
— gallants toasted and fought for her ; poets raved 
over her ; and France's greatest artists vied with 
each other for the honour of transmitting her 
charms to posterity. 

It was inevitable that a girl of such peerless 
loveliness should have lovers by the score ; but 
to one and all she said ''no." She preferred her 
free, joyous life to any matrimonial fetters, how- 
ever richly gilded. It is said that she might, if 
she would, have been Duchesse de Montpensier 
and a royal princess, but the prospect had no 
allurement for her since her heart could not go 
with it. 

But to Pamela, as to most unyielding beauties, 
the ''Prince Charming" came at last — in the form 
of Lord Edward Fitz Gerald, younger son of the 
Duke of Leinster, a strikingly handsome young 
Irishman, who had won fame by his courage and 
cleverness as well as for his good looks. It is 
variously said that Lord Edward first saw the 
beautiful girl who was to be his wife in the 
Due de Chartres' box at the Opera in Paris, and 
during a short visit she paid to England in 1792. 
However this may be, the two young people 
appear to have fallen deeply in love with each 
other almost from their first meeting, and in the 



102 ROMANCE AND MYSTERY OF PAMELA 

following December they were married at Tournay, 
in spite of the opposition of Madame de Genlis. 

In the marriage contract preserved at Tournay 
they are described as ** Edward Fitz Gerald, native 
of London, son of the late Duke of Leinster, aged 
twenty-nine years, and Stephanie Caroline Anne 
Simms, known as ' Pamela,' native of London, 
daughter of William Berkeley and of Mary 
Simms." The contract is signed by Edward Fitz 
Gerald, Pamela Simms, Philippe Egalit^, and others. 

It is thus clear that whatever claim Pamela may 
have had to a royal origin she was married under 
the maiden name of the Hampshire widow ; while 
her father's name appears as Berkeley, and not 
as Seymour, as asserted by Madame de Genlis. 

In contradiction to this contract, however, the 
marriage is thus recorded in The Masonic Magazine 
for January 1794: ''The Hon. Lord Edward Fitz 
Gerald, Knight of the Shire for County Kildare, 
to Madame Pamela Capet, daughter of His Royal 
Highness, the ci-devant Duke of Orleans"; while 
Moore in his " Life of Lord Edward Fitz Gerald," 
declares that *' Pamela was the adopted, or as it 
may be said, without scruple, the actual daughter 
of Madame de Genlis by the Due d'Orleans." 

Pamela's life with her handsome husband in the 
modest home in Ireland to which he now took her 
was for five years one of idyllic happiness. '' Life 
seems to me," she wrote to Madame de Genlis, 
"more like a beautiful dream than reality. We 
are so happy that I sometimes ask myself fearfully, 
will it, can it last?" In his letters to his mother, 
the Duchess, Lord Edward draws some charm- 
ing pictures of their beautiful and simple life. 



ROMANCE AND MYSTERY OF PAMELA 103 

" Dearest Mother," he writes a few months after 
the wedding-day, *' I have been very idle, and so 
has my dear Httle wife. The truth is the sitting 
up so late has made us late in the morning, and 
we get on so agreeably and chatter so much in 
the morning, that the day is over before we know 
where we are. Dublin has been very gay — a 
great number of balls of which the lady misses 
none. Dancing is a great passion with her. I 
wish you could see her dance, she dances so with 
her heart and soul. Everybody seems to like her, 
and behave civilly and kindly to her." 

In the following month he writes this idyllic 
letter from Black Rock near Dublin. ''Wife and 
I are come to settle here. We came last night, 
got up to a delightful spring day, and are now 
enjoying the little book-room, with the windows 
open, hearing the birds sing, and the place looking 
beautiful. The plants in the passage are just 
watered, and,^ with the passage -door open, the 
room smells like a green-house. Pamela has 
dressed four beautiful flower-pots, and is now 
working at her frame while I write to my dearest 
mother. I am sitting at the bay window, with 
all those pleasant feelings which the fine weather, 
the pretty place, the singing birds, the pretty wife 
and Frescati give me. My wife is busy in her 
little American jacket, planting sweet peas and 
mignonette. Her table and work-box, with the 
little one's caps are on the table. . . . The dear 
little, pale, pretty wife sends her love to you." 

From one home to another in Ireland the devoted 
young couple drifted, each in turn proving a "little 



104 ROMANCE AND MYSTEEY OF PAMELA 

Paradise," as Lord Edward describes their home in 
Kildare. '' It don't describe well," he writes : " one 
must see it and feel it. It has, however, all the 
little things that make beauty to me. My dear 
wife dotes on it, and becomes it." 

But these halcyon days were coming to an end. 
Such happiness as this proved, as Pamela feared, 
too great to last. Lord Edward, who was little 
less devoted to his country than to his wife, was 
led from the peace of his home life into the troubled 
arena of politics. He became one of the ruling 
spirits of the Society of United Irishmen, and was 
deputed to cross the Channel to arrange for a 
French invasion of Ireland. The scheme was 
betrayed, and one March day in 1798 the leaders 
of the revolutionary party were arrested. Lord 
Edward contrived to escape and found a hiding- 
place where for some time he remained in conceal- 
ment. 

Meanwhile Pamela had removed to obscure 
lodgings in a street at the back of Merrion Square, 
where she remained in fear and trembling, expect- 
ing every hour to hear of the arrest of her beloved 
husband. Often under the cover of the darkness 
Lord Edward would steal from his hiding-place to 
spend a few blissful, if fearful, hours with his wife 
and their child. One evening, it is said, the 
servant-girl, peeping through the keyhole, saw the 
young couple weeping together over the cradle of 
their sleeping infant. In vain did Pamela entreat 
her husband not to expose himself to such danger. 
His stolen visits would inevitably be discovered 
sooner or later, and the thought was too terrible 
for her to bear. As a matter of fact his identity 



ROMANCE AND MYSTERY OF PAMELA 105 

was well known to at least two members of the 
household. '* I know who the gentleman is who 
comes to see the lady," a man-servant announced 
one day. "You know!" gasped the owner of the 
house, who was in the secret. " Yes, I know ! " 
was the answer. **The gentleman put his boots 
to be cleaned, and there was his name written in 
one of them. But you needn't think I'll sell him — 
not for ten times a thousand pounds. I'd lay down 
my life for him and for her, if need be." 

But the day of tragedy could not be delayed for 
ever. Staunchly loyal as his friends were, the 
secret of his place of concealment was at last 
discovered ; and one night, after he had returned 
from one of his visits to his wife, the house in which 
he was concealed was surrounded by soldiers, and 
the door of his room burst open. "You are Lord 
Edward Fitz Gerald," said the commanding officer. 
** I have a warrant for your arrest, and I call upon 
you to surrender.'* 

Thus driven to bay the unhappy man, resolved 
rather to die than surrender, seized his dagger and 
flung himself on his would-be captors. He fought 
desperately, madly ; but the forces arrayed against 
him were too strong. He was overwhelmed, flung 
down and, bleeding from half-a-dozen wounds, was 
secured. But he had sold his freedom dearly, for 
several of his assailants were disabled and one, the 
leader of the party, lay dying in a corner of the 
room. He was taken to the castle and thence to 
Newgate ; where, when asked by the Lord Lieu- 
tenant if he wished to send any message to his 
wife, he answered, "Nothing, nothing — but, oh! 
break this to her tenderly." 



106 ROMANCE AND MYSTERY OF PAMELA 

On hearing the terrible news Pamela was dis- 
tracted. She would gladly have laid down her life 
for her gallant husband ; but she could do nothing. 
She sold all her small personal possessions, even 
her bridal presents, and with the proceeds tried to 
bribe his gaolers, but all to no purpose. She begged 
to be allowed to share his captivity, but her request 
was peremptorily refused. And the crowning blow 
fell when she was ordered to leave Ireland immedi- 
ately — to tear herself from her children and never 
look again on her husband who, she heard, was 
dying of his wounds. A few days after her depar- 
ture Lord Edward drew his last breath and she 
was left desolate. Before his death he had made 
his will leaving all he possessed '*to my wife Lady 
Pamela Fitz Gerald, as a mark of esteem, love and 
confidence in her"; but in the following month a 
Bill of Attainder deprived her of this, her only 
means of support. 

The news of her husband's death was broken to 
Pamela, soon after she reached London, by the 
Duke of Richmond, who gives this account of it. 
** I went immediately to Harley Street and brought 
Lady Edward to Whitehall, trying to prepare her 
in the coach for bad news, which I repeatedly said 
I dreaded, by the next post. She, however, did 
not take my meaning. When she got to White- 
hall, we had Dr Moseley present, and, by degrees, 
we broke to her the sad event. Her agonies of 
grief were very great and violent hysterics soon 
came on. But by degrees she grew more calm at 
times ; and although she had had little sleep and 
still less food, and has nervous spasms, yet I hope 
and trust her health is not materially affected." 



ROMANCE AND MYSTERY OF PAMELA 107 

For a time the disconsolate widow was the guest 
of the Duke of Richmond at Goodwood, where, 
surrounded by kindness and sympathy, she gradu- 
ally regained health and something at least of her 
old brightness ; and in 1799 she made her home in 
Hamburg, where she found comfort in the com- 
panionship of an old playfellow, Madame de Genlis' 
niece, who had married a wealthy banker in that 
city. Here in later years she made the acquaint- 
ance of a gentleman named Pitcairn, to whose per- 
sistent suit she yielded, urged no doubt more by 
her lonely and destitute condition than by affection 
for him. But the union proved unhappy, and in 
1820 we find her living in obscurity and poverty at 
Toulouse. 

Eleven years later the end came to her romantic 
and tragic life in Paris. The attainder on her 
husband had been removed and the last few years 
of her life were spent in material comfort. Madame 
Ducrest, a niece of Madame de Genlis, who attended 
Pamela during the closing days of her life, draws 
a pathetic picture of her changed appearance and 
of the courage with which she faced the end. 

** Not many days before her last illness and 
death," she writes, ** Lady Edward Fitz Gerald 
was still admired and sought after ; brilliant in 
society, spirituelh and remarkable for liveliness of 
fancy and playfulness of imagination. ... In the 
salon of the Comtesse de Balbi, Pamela was the 
life and soul of the society. So many graces and 
powers of fascination, such goodness and amiability, 
were soon to be but a remembrance to perhaps the 
only woman who was her friend. Here we had 
before us, at one moment, Lady Fitz Gerald, full 



108 ROMANCE AND MYSTERY OF PAMELA 

of talents and endearing qualities, beautiful as an 
angel, and soon after she lay before our eyes a 
corpse ! . . . Her name will ever be gratefully 
remembered in the cottages of the poor in the 
vicinity of her place of residence. People of 
fashion will remember, perhaps, the fascination of 
the beautiful Lady Edward Fitz Gerald ; the poor 
will never forget the kind and generous acts of 
Pamela." 

Thus at the age of fifty-seven, thirty-three years 
after the tragedy which clouded her life at its 
brightest, died Pamela, retaining to the last, in 
spite of all her troubles, the graces and fascination 
which had made her the idol of all who knew her. 
What her true parentage was remains still as in- 
scrutable as when she romped, a sunny, golden- 
haired child, in the Palais Royal nursery. All we 
really know, or need care to know, is that she was, 
as stated on her tombstone in the Cemetery of 
Montmartre, Pamela, one of the most bewitching 
and lovable women who ever won man's homage 
or were the playthings of destiny. 



A LOW-BORN PRINCESS OF THE 

BLOOD 

There was scarcely a "buck " of all who strutted 
and swaggered along Pall Mall in the early thirties 
of the eighteenth century who could pass the shop 
of Mr Rennie, without a flutter of the heart and 
a bold glance through the tailor's window in the 
hope of catching a glimpse of Mary Clement, 
his lovely apprentice, whose beauty was the 
nightly toast at many a neighbouring tavern and 
to vindicate whose superior charms to those 
of the rest of her sex swords had been drawn 
and not a little blood spilt. And the ''blood" 
who could boast that he had won a look, much 
more a smile, from her was the envy of his 
fellows. 

And well he might be ; for there were no more 
bewitching eyes and no more intoxicating smile in 
all London town, when George IL was King, than 
those of Mary Clement, the low-born sempstress, 
whose loveliness was rivalled by her modesty, and 
who could seldom be induced to look up from her 
stitching to reward the boldness of her admirers. 
" When Nature modelled Mistress Mary Clement," 
wrote an enthusiastic chronicler of the time, "she 
was in her most inspired and bountiful mood. 
Such eyes of ravishing blue, such hair of fine-spun 
gold, a complexion of such dazzling fairness, a head 
so daintily poised, a figure so sylphlike and so 
109 



110 A LOW-BOEN PRINCESS OF THE BLOOD 

instinct with grace, London does not see once in 
a century." 

Such a rare and radiant prize as this was not to 
be won Hghtly ; and Mary, conscious of her ex- 
ceptional charms, turned a cold and dainty shoulder 
to every wooer, however high above her in station 
— to all but one, that is, the handsomest of them 
all, if the least bold. The apartments above the 
tailor's shop were occupied by young Edward 
Walpole, second son of the great Sir Robert Wal- 
pole. Prime Minister of England ; and he it was 
who, before she knew her danger, had stolen 
Mary's heart away. Walpole, who had just 
returned from the ''grand tour," was one of the 
handsomest young men of his day in England, and 
with his physical attractions he combined talents of 
a remarkable order and the social charm of a born 
courtier. He had, in fact, all the equipment, social 
and personal, to win the hand of the proudest 
beauty in the land ; but Cupid had other designs 
for him. 

As he passed daily by the shop door on his 
way to and from his apartments, his notice was 
frequently attracted by the vision of the lovely, 
golden-haired girl industriously plying her needle 
or cutting out patterns of small clothes ; and a 
mutual magnetism drew the maid's eyes to the 
handsome young gentleman, to whose coming she 
began, in spite of herself, to look forward with a 
delightful anticipation. These stolen glances were 
succeeded by equally surreptitious smiles and 
words of greeting when Rennie's back was turned. 
Secret meetings followed, and before the young 
people realised the path they were treading, they 



A LOW-BOEN PRINCESS OF THE BLOOD 111 

were hopelessly and deliciously in love with each 
other. 

When Madame Rennie realised the state of 
things, she was furious. ** The impudent young 
hussy!" she said in her anger, **to allow a gentle- 
man so much above her to make love to her, — and 
so slyly too ! No good can come of such carryings 
on ! " And she read the blushing and confused 
sempstress a severe lecture on her lapse from 
maidenly modesty. More than that, she bade the 
girl begone before she brought disgrace on a 
respectable household such as hers. 

Mary was heartbroken. She dared not return 
home in disgrace. She had no friend to whom to 
appeal in her trouble — except one. Yes, there was 
one who, she knew, would help her. And with 
tears streaming from her eyes she rushed upstairs 
to pour out her troubles in her lover's ears. ** Never 
mind, my darling ! " he exclaimed, as he took the 
sobbing girl in his arms and kissed the tears away, 
"nothing and no one can harm you while I am 
near. You shall be my wife — in all but name — 
and in our happiness all your troubles will soon be 
forgotten." In the words of the biographer of the 
Walpoles : ** she vowed that she would never leave 
him ; and she kept her word." 

Thus dramatically, for good or ill, were linked 
the lives of the poor sempstress and the son of 
England's greatest statesman, Mary never dream- 
ing, and little caring in her happiness, that the 
daughter of this union would one day be within the 
charmed circle of the throne itself, a princess of 
the blood royal and mother of a son who might 
have lived to wear a crown as England's King. 



112 A LOW-BORN PRINCESS OF THE BLOOD 

But those days were still distant ; and meanwhile 
Mary was ideally happy with her handsome and 
high-born lover, whose devotion exceeded even 
his vows in her hour of trouble and threatened 
disgrace. 

Mary Clement became the mother of five 
children by Edward Walpole — two sons and three 
daughters — who inherited the good looks of their 
parents and of whom the daughters were destined 
to rise far above the lowly state of their mother. 
After the birth of her fifth child Mary died, at the 
early age of twenty-four, deeply mourned by the 
''husband" whose dream of happiness had been 
cut so tragically short. In later years he did full 
justice to his exceptional talents, for he was made 
a Knight of the Bath, a Privy Councillor and 
Chief-Secretary of Ireland. He might, if he 
would, have found a wife in the most exalted 
circles : but he preferred to remain loyal to the 
memory of his lost love, the sempstress, and to 
live for her children, the legacy of their too brief 
union. 

The three daughters — Laura, Mary and Charlotte 
— grew through beautiful childhood into a girlhood 
of surpassing loveliness. '^ Nowhere in England 
or out of it," says a chronicler, ''could be found 
three sisters at once so beautiful and so richly 
dowered with intelligence, amiability and wit. As 
the ' lovely Miss Walpoles ' they created as great a 
sensation as even the beautiful Miss Gunnings ; 
they were feted and petted by Society ; each had 
her retinue of high-placed wooers, eager to lay 
coronets and riches at her dainty feet ; and when 
they took their walks abroad they were followed 



A LOW-BORN PRINCESS OF THE BLOOD 113 

by crowds of curious admirers anxious to catch a 
glimpse of them, and maybe, to win a smile from 
their pretty lips." 

Their uncle, Horace Walpole, was very proud of 
his beautiful nieces, and loved to entertain them at 
Strawberry Hill, to romp with them as children, 
and to surround them with courtly attentions in the 
flower of their exquisite girlhood. But, in spite of 
their charms, and of the fact that they were the 
granddaughters of the Prime Minister, the doors 
of the Court were closed against them by their 
*' birth's ignoble bar." But this exclusion mattered 
little to the high-spirited girls, who valued more 
the universal homage to their beauty than all the 
favours royalty could shower on them. 

Besieged by lovers — many of them highly 
eligible — it was not likely that the three beauties 
could long maintain their maiden condition. Laura, 
the eldest, was the first to capitulate — to a brother 
of the Earl of Albemarle, a clergyman whose gifts 
and family influence raised him in later years to 
a bishopric. Of this match, her uncle, Horace, 
wrote, '* I have forgot to tell you of a wedding in 
our family ; my brother's eldest daughter is to be 
married to-morrow to Lord Albemarle's brother, a 
Canon of Windsor. We are very happy with the 
match. The bride is very agreeable, sensible and 
good, though not so handsome, perhaps, as her 
sisters. . . . The second, Marie, is beauty itself. 
Her face, bloom, eyes, teeth and person are all per- 
fect. You may imagine how charming she is when 
I tell you that her only fault, if one must find one, is 
that her face is rather too round. She has a great 
deal of wit and vivacity, with perfect modesty." 

H 



114 A LOW-BORN PRINCESS OF THE BLOOD 

A few years later, Charlotte, the youngest of the 
** three Graces," found a husband in Lord Hunting- 
tower, afterwards fourth Earl of Dysart, of whose 
wooing Horace Walpole gives an interesting 
account. ** My brother's last daughter, Charlotte, 
is married ; and though their story is too short for 
a romance, it will make a pretty novel ; nay, it is 
almost brief enough for a play, coming very nearly 
within the space of twenty-four hours. The young 
lord has liked her for some time ; on Saturday 
sen'night he came to my brother and made his 
demand. Edward said, in answer, he would never 
force the inclinations of his children, — he did not 
believe his daughter, Charlotte, had any attach- 
ment ; but she might have ; he would send for her 
and know her mind. 

"She was with her sister Marie, to whom she 
said very sensibly, * If I were but nineteen, I would 
refuse point-blank, for I don't like to be married in 
a week to a man I never saw. But I am two-and- 
twenty ; some people say I am handsome, but I 
believe the truth is that I am likely to be at large 
and to go off soon. It is dangerous to refuse so 
great a match.' Take notice of the words * married 
in a week.' The love that was so many months in 
ripening could not stay above a week. She came 
and saw the impetuous lover, and I believe she 
was glad that she had not 'refused point-blank,' for 
they were married last Thursday." 

Of the three daughters of the sempstress we 
have thus seen the eldest married to the brother of 
an earl, and a spiritual peer of future years : and 
the youngest assured of the coronet of a countess. 
But exalted at these unions were, they were to be 



A LOW-BORN PRINCESS OF THE BLOOD 115 

far eclipsed by the second and most beautiful 
daughter, Mary, who was destined to mingle the 
blood of the low-born mother with the royal strain 
of the House of Hanover. 

So many and so exalted were Mary's suitors 
that she had but to pick and choose among the 
coronets that were at her disposal. But Mary was 
in no haste to wed, and refused many a tempting 
offer before at last she deigned to give her hand to 
one of the oldest and least physically attractive of 
all her lovers. The fortunate man was none other 
than James, Earl of Waldegrave, Knight of the 
Garter, Privy Councillor and Governor to the 
Prince of Wales, — a man old enough to be her 
father, but with substantial claims on her preference 
which none of his younger and more handsome 
rivals possessed. And thus it came to pass that 
one day in 1759, Mary Walpole left the altar 
Countess Waldegrave, bride of one of the most 
talented and distinguished of England's nobles. 

Her dream of happiness, however, was short- 
lived ; for, four years after her nuptials, and just 
after the birth of her last child, the Earl was struck 
down by smallpox, and in spite of the tender 
ministrations of his wife, who nursed him with a 
touching devotion and a heroic disregard of her 
own danger, succumbed to the malady. 

The Countess was disconsolate, and it was long 
before she emerged from her grief and retire- 
ment to dazzle the world again by her beauty — 
now greater than ever in its matured perfection. 
Once more her hand was sought in marriage by the 
most eligible men in the land ; but to one and all 
she said "no," even to the Duke of Portland, who 



116 A LOW-BORN PRINCESS OF THE BLOOD 

tempted her long with a coronet of strawberry- 
leaves. She had already realised her childish 
ambition, of which the following pretty story is told. 
One day, when she was a child in short petticoats, 
she startled her father by saying, **Some day I 
mean to be a grand lady." " Rubbish, child," was 
the father's answer, "that is impossible; for you 
are only a beggar and it is just as well that you 
should know it." *' Then," retorted the mite, with a 
saucy toss of her pretty little head, *' I'll be a lady 
beggar." She was now a "grand lady" and her 
social ambition was satisfied. She preferred to be 
content with her laurels, and to live for her three 
little girls. 

But fate had other designs for the sempstress's 
daughter. It was not long before the most fasci- 
nating widow in England had a royal lover at her 
feet, — none other than William Henry, Duke of 
Gloucester, the favourite brother of the King, 
George III. The Duke was a boy of nineteen 
when he fell under the spell of this lovely mother of 
three children ; but from the first glimpse of her 
he was undone. He loved her with all the hot, 
unreasoning passion of a boy, and he would brook 
no refusal to his pleading. In vain the Countess 
protested that he was too young to wed, and she 
too old to be his wife, and dwelt on the great dis- 
parity in their positions. The young prince refused 
to listen to her protests. " I love you more than 
life itself," he vowed. " I shall never marry 
another. For your sake I would gladly resign the 
crown itself." 

What could the Countess do, in face of such 
ardour and inflexible resolve, but consent ; and one 



A LOW-BORN PRINCESS OF THE BLOOD 117 

December day she became the wife of the King's 
brother in her house in Pall Mall, not many doors 
from the tailor's shop in which her mother, less 
than thirty years earlier, had stitched small clothes 
as a tailor's apprentice. " A singular union indeed,'* 
as Mr Eliot Warburton remarks, "of the two ex- 
treme links of the social chain took place when 
H.R.H. William Henry, Duke of Gloucester, 
espoused the daughter of the unfortunate Mary 
Clement — a marriage, in virtue of which it was not 
only possible, but quite probable that a descendant 
of the tailor's apprentice might in course of time 
take his or her seat upon that very Throne to 
which her own daughters had been denied all 
approach." 

Although the marriage was kept a profound 
secret, the Duke's marked devotion to the fair 
Countess was such as to attract universal attention 
to their relations. When it was observed that not 
only was he almost inseparable from her, but that 
her servants wore a semi-royal uniform and that 
gentlemen of his household escorted her to her 
carriage with the deference due to a princess, one can 
scarcely wonder that tongues wagged maliciously 
or that the Countess's reputation suffered. And 
when Lady Waldegrave accompanied the Duke 
on a tour of the Continent any lingering doubt 
as to the intimacy of their relations was re- 
moved, whatever suspicion might remain of their 
legitimacy. 

There is little doubt that the prince was as 
anxious to proclaim his marriage as his wife was 
to make her position clear and to claim the privi- 
leges of her new rank ; but the time was not 



118 A LOW-BORN PEINCESS OF THE BLOOD 

propitious for breaking his secret to the King. 
George had already been roused to a frenzy of 
anger on learning that his brother, the Duke of 
Cumberland, had made a wife of Mrs Horton, the 
pretty widow of a Derbyshire squire. "You fool! 
you blockhead ! you villain ! " he had exclaimed to 
the Duke when he was daring enough to approach 
his offended Majesty. " I tell you that woman 
shall never be a Royal Duchess — she shall never 
be anything." ''What shall I do, then ?" inquired 
the crestfallen culprit. "Go away — go abroad till 
I can determine what to do," thundered George ; 
and the Duke had to return to Calais to tell his 
wife the humiliating result of the interview. 

If the mesalliance of Henry Frederick, who was 
the rou^ of his family, raised such a storm in his 
royal brother's breast, what could be expected 
when the King learned that the brother to whom 
he was so devoted, the Duke of Gloucester, had 
been guilty of a similar offence ? The Duke was 
in despair ; for not only was the Royal Marriage 
Act, which was to make such unions as his illegal, 
about to become law, but his wife was expecting 
shortly to become a mother, and it was thus of 
the highest importance that the King's sanction 
of the match should be obtained at once. 

In his extremity he wrote to the King announcing 
the fact of his marriage to Lady Waldegrave, and 
begging him to send officers of state to attend his 
wife's accouchement, thus recognising her rank as 
a princess of the blood. On reading this letter 
George was furious. He poured forth torrents of 
abuse on his absent brother, and spoke of the 
marriage as a "highly disgraceful step"; and 



A LOW-BORN PRINCESS OF THE BLOOD 119 

when at last his anger had cooled, he lay awake 
all night weeping. To Lord North he said, a few 
days later, '' I admit that on the subject of the 
Duke my heart is sorely wounded ; for I have 
ever loved him with the fondness one bears for 
a child." 

To this appeal George sent no answer ; and it 
was only when William Henry, as a last resource, 
threatened to appeal to the House of Lords that 
he sent the Archbishop of Canterbury, the Lord 
Chancellor and other high officials to wait upon 
the Duke and Duchess, and to report to him on 
the legality of the marriage. Among the most 
important evidence submitted to this Committee 
of Inquiry was that of the Bishop of Exeter, who 
testified that ''when a marriage-bill was brought 
in he had thought it right to question Lady 
Waldegrave, then on a visit at his Deanery." ** I 
went into her room," he added, **and telling her 
my reasons for inquiring I asked, whether she 
was married. She burst into a flood of tears and 
cried, ' I am ! I am married ! ' and then, falling 
into a great agony, she wrung her hands and 
exclaimed, ' Good God, what have I done ? I 
have betrayed the Duke, and broken my promise 
to him ! ' " 

The result of the inquiry was that the Committee 
was satisfied that a marriage had actually taken 
place between the Duke and the Countess ; but in 
its report to the King it omitted to describe the 
union as legal. This omission drove the Duke to 
the last extremity of despair ; his child might be 
born any hour, and, at any cost, its legitimacy must 
be placed beyond all question. Rushing off to the 



120 A LOW-BORN PRINCESS OF THE BLOOD 

Archbishop's palace he found his Grace, with the 
Bishop of London, on the point of retiring for the 
night ; but, late as the hour was, he insisted that 
they should go at once to the King and tell him 
that if he had any doubts as to the legality of the 
marriage he, the Duke, would remove them. ** But 
it is impossible," protested the Archbishop, **we 
cannot go at this late hour." '* You shall not lay 
your heads on the pillows until you have seen his 
Majesty," was the obdurate answer; and to the 
palace the two dignitaries had perforce to go. 

The King refused to listen to them, and vowed 
that unless his brother were remarried he would 
have nothing to say to the match. The Duke 
refused point-blank to go through the ceremony 
again, and finally George yielded a reluctant recog- 
nition of the marriage — only just in time, for within 
a few hours the Duchess gave birth to a son. 

With the King reconciled and appeased the rest 
was plain sailing. The Duke and Duchess were 
becomingly submissive and spared no effort to win 
his Majesty's favour. But, as Horace Walpole 
wrote at the time of his niece, *' Her ambition, 
which is her prevailing passion, will not long be 
smothered." Nor was it. Secure now of the 
King's favour, recognised as a royal princess, the 
daughter of Mary Clement had reached the loftiest 
summit of her desires. She had raised herself to 
the most dazzling social pinnacle, and from the steps 
of the throne she could hold her head proudly in 
the face of the world. None could afford now to 
speak slightingly of her or of her lowly origin ; she 
was sister-in-law of the King of England, and the 
world should know it. 



A LOW-BORN PRINCESS OF THE BLOOD 121 

And the world, ever fickle, was quick to fawn on 
her. While the Duchess of Cumberland was left 
severely alone to enjoy her clouded splendour, the 
Duchess of Gloucester's levdes were thronged by all 
the greatest in the land, anxious to pay homage to 
and win the smiles of the new princess, the favourite 
of the King and Queen. And thus for a few brilliant 
years Mary Walpole shone as a bright star in the 
royal firmament, drinking deep of the intoxicating 
cup of pleasure and of power. 

But her life was not destined to close in such 
splendour. The Duke, after a few years of devotion 
to his beautiful wife, began to look elsewhere for 
distraction, and fell a victim to the charms of Lady 
Almeria Carpenter, one of the loveliest women of 
the time. In vain the Duchess Mary tried all her 
arts to win the truant back to her side ; the new 
infatuation held him in thrall and he could not even 
simulate an ardour for the love of his boyhood. 
Other princesses might and no doubt would have 
overlooked such infidelity — but not so the Duchess 
of Gloucester. When she fully realised that her 
husband's heart was lost to her, she refused to share 
his home any longer. She insisted on and obtained 
a legal separation ; and the days of her magnificence 
were over. 

The remaining years of her life were passed in 
retirement and in works of unostentatious charity ; 
and when she died on 23rd August 1807, two years 
after her ducal husband's death, it was not, as Mr 
Willmott Dixon says, *' the grand State funeral 
awarded her that was the truest tribute to her 
worth, but the tears of the women and children 
whose homes she had brightened and whose sorrows 



122 A LOW-BOEN PRINCESS OF THE BLOOD 

she had relieved, who lined the long unlovely 
Brompton Road as their beloved benefactress was 
borne to her last resting-place in the Chapel of St 
George at Windsor." 

None more deeply and truly mourned the Duchess 
than her five children, of whom the three daughters 
by her first marriage became respectively Countess 
Waldegrave, Duchess of Grafton and Lady Hugh 
Seymour. To the Duke she bore two children — a 
son, Prince William Frederick, Duke of Gloucester, 
who married his cousin. Princess Mary, daughter 
of George IIL, and a daughter, the Princess 
Sophia, who died unmarried in 1844. Had she 
but lived to middle age Mary Clement, the semp- 
stress, might have thus nursed as her own grand- 
children a royal prince and princess who addressed 
the King of England as '' Uncle." 



MADAME ''LE CHEVALIER" 

At one time the valiant soldier, striking terror 
into the hearts of the enemy by the sweep and 
thrust of his death-dealing sword, at another a 
charming demoiselle of pouts and dimples, setting 
men's hearts in a flutter by an intoxicating smile or 
the glimpse of a dainty ankle ; now, the grave and 
sedate ambassador skilled in all the arts of diplo- 
macy, and again, by some subtle metamorphosis, a 
gracious lady of society, waking envy by the blaze 
of her diamonds and the grace of her deportment 
— such was the Chevalier D'Eon, the wonder and 
puzzle of the eighteenth century, who changed his 
(or her) sex as easily as a woman changes her 
gown, and played each role so perfectly that, while 
to-day none could suspect that he was not a man, 
to-morrow none could doubt that *'he" was a 
woman and one of the most feminine and charming 
of the sex. 

What was the solution of this mystery, the most 
inscrutable that ever baffled human curiosity ? For 
more than half-a-century it was the puzzle of Europe. 
It was hotly discussed in royal courts, in the 
boudoirs of great ladies and in taverns and coffee- 
houses. Enormous sums were wagered on it ; 
duels were fought over it; it estranged lifelong 
friends, and brought discord into peaceful homes. 
And through all the decades of perplexity the 
Chevalier carried a smiling and imperturbable face, 
123 



124 MADAME "LE CHEVALIER" 

posing as a male or female just as his mood or 
expediency suggested, and sublimely indifferent to 
the wonder and mystery he excited wherever he 
went. 

It was one October day in 1728 that this human 
enigma first appeared on the stage on which he 
was to play his dual role. His birthplace was the 
picturesque little town of Tonnerre, which clings to 
the slopes overlooking the Arman9on, a tributary 
of the Yonne, in its environment of rich vine-lands. 
His family belonged to the petite noblesse ; for 
centuries his ancestors had been brave soldiers and 
astute men of law ; and his father was a Parisian 
avocat who held many offices of trust and profit. 

One thing is abundantly certain. The infant 
was, at his coming, hailed as a boy ; for when he 
was carried to his baptism up the steep flight of 
two hundred steps which lead to the Church of 
Notre Dame, the Dean of Tonnerre gave him the 
names Charles Genevieve Louis Auguste Andr^ 
Timoth^e, and wrote him down in the baptismal 
register as '' the son of Louis D'Eon de Beaumont 
and of Dame Fran^oise, his wife." 

For the first four years of his eventful life this 
Charles of many names was undoubtedly a boy — 
and a lusty boy, too ; and his first assumption of 
the female role came when, a child of four, dressed 
in the robe of the sisterhood of the Virgin, he was 
publicly and solemnly consecrated to the Virgin in 
front of the high altar of Notre Dame. For three 
years, until the age of seven, he was a Fille de 
la Vierge, a fair-haired, dainty, winsome maiden, 
much petted by the ladies of Tonnerre. 

At seven he reverted to breeches — or probably 



MADAME "LE CHEVALIER" 125 

put them on for the first time — and as a boy was 
taken in hand by a local cur^, Abbe Marcenay, 
whose only recollection of him in later years was 
that he was a veritable imp of mischief, whose 
lessons were punctuated and enforced by frequent 
whippings. When his tutor could do no more with 
him, Charles Genevieve was sent to Paris to the 
school of a M. Tavernier, where he was boy enough 
to bathe in the Seine with his fellow-pupils, to 
** punch their heads," on small provocation, and to 
beat them all both at games and lessons. There 
was no doubt of his sex at this time ; or during his 
four years at the College Mazarin, where he proved 
himself the best scholar, fencer and athlete of his 
day, although at his confirmation he had added 
" Marie" to his other six Christian names. 

In fact, many years were to pass before he 
resumed the sex he discarded in childhood, and 
during this period he graduated as Doctor of Civil 
and Common Law and became a fully fledged 
barrister. These days in Paris seem to have been 
gay and happy. He was bon camarade in many 
a merry drinking-bout, but it was observed that the 
bright eyes of xh^Jilles de T opera had no fascination 
for him. The sex failed to attract him even in the 
lusty days of his young manhood. On the other 
hand he found his chief recreation in manly sports, 
notably fencing, at which, in spite of his short 
stature and girlish figure, he was more than a 
match for any of his fellows. Indeed he was one 
of the most skilful fencers in France, if not in 
Europe. 

Such was D'Eon in the early twenties — a man 
among men and more manly than most ; although, 



126 MADAME "LE CHEVALIER" 

when he went to see his father on his death-bed, in 
1749, the lawyer's farewell words were, " Do not be 
uneasy, my daughter ; it is quite as natural to die as 
to live. I have been at much pains to teach you how 
to live, and I must likewise teach you how to die." 

After a spell of authorship, during which D'Eon 
was appointed to the responsible office of literary 
censor, he was introduced to the Prince de Conti, 
the chief of Louis XV. 's secret agents, who was at 
once struck by his feminine appearance and saw to 
what useful account he could turn it in the service 
of his Majesty. Although D'Eon was twenty-six 
at this time he had the face and figure of a girl — 
and a very charming girl too — of eighteen. In the 
guise of a demoiselle and with the clever, trained 
brain of a man of mature years, D'Eon might be of 
invaluable assistance as a secret agent at foreign 
courts, where his assumed sex would procure for 
him access and consideration which would be denied 
to a man. 

The opportunity was not long in coming. Louis 
was anxious to establish friendly and intimate rela- 
tions with Elizabeth, Empress of Russia, with the 
object of foiling the ambitious designs of Frederick 
the Great ; and what more ideal ambassador could 
he have than this young lawyer with the girl's face, 
who would have no difficulty in gaining access to 
the Empress and by his subtle tongue in winning 
her consent to correspond secretly with the French 
Sovereign in a cypher which he would explain to 
her ? Louis was delighted, and so, naturally, was 
D'Eon, who was flattered at being asked to play 
so important a part in the affairs of Europe as that 
of allying two great nations. 



MADAME "LE CHEVALIER" 127 

And thus it came to pass that, with the Chevalier 
Douglas for escort, — a Scottish adventurer who had 
fled from his native land to save his neck from the 
hangman, — a beautiful young lady set out one day 
on the long journey from Paris to St Petersburg, 
charged with a delicate mission of international 
importance. *' Small in stature, slightly and grace- 
fully built, with a pink and white complexion, large 
melting blue eyes, ruddy pouting lips, and an ex- 
pression of singular sweetness. Mademoiselle was 
equipped with every natural advantage to win not 
only the smiles of the Russian Empress, but the 
homage of every man with a heart susceptible to 
female charms." Winsome as the young lady was 
she was also a student ; for she carried with her an 
innocent-looking copy of Montesquieu's " Esprit des 
Lois," in the double boards of whose binding was 
concealed an autograph letter from Louis to Eliza- 
beth and also a secret cypher for correspondence 
with the French King. 

The Russian Empress was charmed by this fair 
ambassadress with her '*milk and roses" and her 
pretty ways ; and metaphorically, if not literally, took 
her to her Imperial heart. And when Mademoiselle 
Lia, as D'Eon called himself, confessed with charm- 
ing blushes and confusion the little deception he 
had practised on his august friend, Elizabeth, so 
far from taking offence, loaded him with still greater 
favours, for the Empress was notoriously suscep- 
tible to masculine charms. It is said that she 
appointed the fraudulent ''Mademoiselle" to the 
office of lady-reader, in whose company she spent 
hours daily, while '' Mademoiselle " was allowed to 
share the apartments of the youthful Countess 



128 MADAME "LE CHEVALIER" 

Catherine Woronzoff, niece of the Vice-Chancellor. 
This privileged intimacy with the Empress and 
Countess, not unnaturally perhaps, gave rise to a 
multitude of anecdotes which afforded much food 
for scandal in the Courts of Europe. To such good 
purpose did D'Eon turn his opportunities and his 
persuasive tongue that he induced his royal mistress 
to consent to an alliance with France and Austria 
which resulted in the Seven Years' War. While, 
as a signal mark of her affection, Elizabeth entrusted 
her reading-lady with the distinguished duty, usually 
assigned to an ambassador, of conveying the treaty 
of alliance to the French King. 

In corroboration of this story (which, it is only 
fair to say, is held by some writers to be largely 
legend) there is to be seen a portrait of D'Eon 
painted about this time, which represents him as a 
young lady of considerable charms, and displaying 
an ample bosom. If this portrait Is, as we have no 
reason to doubt, a faithful presentment. It furnishes 
more convincing evidence than a whole library of 
books of the Impossibility of suspecting that so 
perfect a woman could be a man. 

In the following year D'Eon returned to Russia 
— this time as Secretary of Legation, and In his 
masculine character. ** Naturally gay, of engaging 
manners and considerable wit, fond alike of a glass 
and a joke, a skilful horseman and swordsman, he 
was sought after and entertained by many great 
personages. With the men, all of them hard 
drinkers and superb fencers, he was a hall-well-met 
companion ; while to the women he proved some- 
what of an enigma. He was polite and empress^ 
towards them, but matters never went further ; and 



MADAME «LE CHEVALIER" 129 

the circumstance of his chaste life in a notoriously 
dissolute Court, coupled with his effeminate face, 
not unlikely gave rise to the rumour : *' The young 
French Secretary is a girl." 

By this time the question of D'Eon's sex had 
become the talk and speculation of Europe. Great 
ladies gossiped and giggled over the problem behind 
their fans ; men debated it hotly over their glasses, 
some declaring that he was a man, others jeering 
at such an insane suggestion. On his return to 
France he was the hero of the hour, followed by 
curious crowds wherever he went. The ladies 
especially petted and fussed over him, invited him 
to their boudoirs and lavished their smiles on him. 
More than one asked him point-blank whether he 
was man or woman ; but all such outspoken curiosity 
he evaded with the skill of an adroit verbal fencer. 

But D'Eon soon wearied of beauty's smiles and 
boudoir flatteries. He was surfeited with sweets, 
and determined to prove that if he was a woman he 
could at least do man's work as well as any man in 
France. He sought and obtained permission to 
join the army, then engaged in a life-and-death 
struggle with the combined forces of England, 
Prussia and Hanover ; and for many months we 
find him fighting with the best, and performing pro- 
digies of valour against his country's enemies, as 
captain of dragoons, much to the mystification of 
those who were assured that he was a woman. 
Once, at the head of his troop, he charged a Prussian 
battalion with such dash and determination that it 
was thoroughly routed and every man was taken 
prisoner. 

When D'Eon returned to Paris covered with 



130 MADAME "LE CHEVALIER" 

glory he was not long allowed to rest on his 
laurels. The Duke de Nivernais was about to 
start for England on a mission of peace, and the 
young captain of dragoons was despatched as his 
secretary, thus making his first appearance in 
England, where he was to spend so many years of 
his adventurous life. His fame had gone before 
him, and he was received not only at Court but 
everywhere with a cordiality out of all proportion 
to his rank. The great ladies of the Court vied 
with each other in doing him honour ; he basked 
in smiles, and was surfeited with delicate attentions, 
while none smiled on him more sweetly than George 
III.'s Queen, Sophie Charlotte, who frequently re- 
ceived him in private audience and spent long 
hours in his entertaining company. No wonder 
that envious tongues wagged busily, or that the 
mystery of the Chevalier's sex became the chief 
topic of conversation from one end of England to 
the other. 

Many a beautiful and high-born lady made over- 
tures to him at her country seat, at which he was 
an honoured guest, but, as Telfer says, "upon all 
such occasions he immediately left the house," — 
a Joseph-like attitude which confirmed the suspicion 
that he was a woman and thus unable to respond 
to such tempting advances. Another fact which 
strengthened the conviction was that, in an age of 
lax morality, the Chevalier, as he had now become, 
was conspicuous by the chastity of his life, although 
it was observed that he took a full share in the 
very free conversation of the dinner table after 
the ladies and the chaplain had retired. 

The Count du Chatelet, the French Ambassador 



MADAME "LE CHEVALIER" 131 

of the time, openly proclaimed his positive convic- 
tion that D'Eon was a female, and the same 
opinion was scattered broadcast in many a scurri- 
lous pamphlet. It was an age of almost universal 
gambling : and heavy wagers were made on the 
subject, some speculators even issuing gambling 
policies **on the sex of Monsieur le Chevalier 
D'Eon." At one time outstanding bets reached 
the enormous total of ^70,000 ; and one of the 
almost countless wagers actually became the subject 
of a law-suit, in which one witness after another 
swore that D'Eon was a woman, apparently on 
no stronger grounds than that he so successfully 
assumed the role of female. In this action Lord 
Mansfield gave judgment for ^700 against the 
defendant, who had wagered that he was a man. 

Some even maintained that he was not only a 
woman but a bearded one to boot ; and a descrip- 
tion of him at this time bears out the latter part 
of the indictment, for he is pictured as having a 
** rather effeminate countenance, blue eyes, small 
features, and a pale complexion, with a dark 
beardy We also learn that *'he wore a wig and 
queue, that he invariably appeared in the uniform 
of an officer of dragoons — red, with pea-green lapels 
— that he was about five feet seven inches in 
height, and of a somewhat stoutish build." 

D'Eon professed to be highly indignant at these 
indecent speculations as to his sex. It is said that 
he even administered a severe thrashing to two or 
three of the insurance-speculators and threatened 
several others ; and he finally disappeared from 
London for a time — where, not even his most in- 
timate friends seemed to know. His mysterious 



132 MADAME "LE CHEVALIER" 

flight added fuel to the speculations, and on his 
return the flames broke out more fiercely still. 
The ladies, as is perhaps intelligible, seem to have 
been more curious than the men, and many exerted 
all their wiles in a vain effort to wheedle his secret 
from him. One young girl. Miss Wilkes by name, 
went so far as to send him the following note in 
French : — 

** Miss Wilkes presents her compliments to Mon- 
sieur le Chevalier D'Eon, and is anxious to know 
if he really be a woman, as everybody asserts, or 
a man. It would be very kind of Monsieur le 
Chevalier D'Eon to communicate the truth to Miss 
Wilkes who begs him, with all her heart, to do 
so." But even to such pretty, if slightly impertinent, 
pleading D'Eon turned a deaf ear. 

But to return — for these speculations as to his 
sex covered many years, even to the close of his 
long life — the Chevalier's stay in England was by 
no means a bed of roses. After he had taken back 
to France ratifications of the treaty of peace and 
had been dubbed by the King a Knight of the 
Royal Military Order of St Louis, he returned 
to England as temporary ambassador. But there 
Were many enemies who were already plotting his 
downfall — men whose secrets he was accused of 
revealing — and when one of them, the Count de 
Guerchy, was appointed permanent ambassador 
in his stead at the English Court, D'Eon's troubles 
began. 

De Guerchy was only one of a number of power- 
ful French nobles who had arrayed themselves 
against the King, and they determined to give him 
a taste of their power by smashing up his secret 



MADAME "LE CHEVALIER" 133 

agency, of which D'Eon was now the most conspic- 
uous and dangerous member. When Louis heard 
of these designs he sent a warning message to the 
Chevalier, bidding him resume his woman's clothes 
and hide himself in the city, as he was no longer 
safe in his London home. But D'Eon was not 
so easily frightened. A stout heart beat under 
his supposedly feminine breast, and he defied his 
enemies to do their worst, a challenge they lost no 
time in taking up. He fortified his house, gathered 
a number of loyal friends around him, and prepared 
for the worst. 

To quote Mr Christy's D'Eon manuscripts, 
** He kept a lamp burning throughout the night, 
and had a red-hot poker by his side night and day. 
His arsenal included four brace of pistols, two 
guns and light sabres. The garrison consisted of 
several dragoons of his old regiment, and some 
deserters whom he picked up in London, and who 
occupied the basement of the house, with orders to 
admit the French police officers, should they at any 
time seek to enter, and then cut off their retreat, 
whilst he himself defended the entrenchment. It 
was arranged that in the event of his being worsted, 
he should make a preconcerted signal to his men to 
intimate that they were to run for their lives, while 
he fired the mines which he had placed under the 
principal rooms and the staircase." On the rare 
occasions when he ventured from his fortress D'Eon 
walked abroad armed to the teeth, and threatening 
that if any people attempted to lay hands on him, 
he would either shoot them dead, or shoot himself. 
**And," wrote Walpole, "I believe him quite 
capable of carrying out his threat." 



134 MADAME "LE CHEVALIER" 

Alarmed by such a resolute front, Guerchy, who 
had also been warned by the British Government 
that "according to the law of this kingdom, it 
would be impossible to justify the seizure either 
of the person or papers of the Chevalier D'Eon," 
abandoned the attempt to kidnap him and smuggle 
him over to France, and decided to try guile. 
Under the pretence of a friendly overture he 
invited the Chevalier to a supper of reconciliation, 
an invitation which was accepted. D' Eon's sus- 
picion of his enemy's motives was, however, by no 
means disarmed, and it was well that he kept his 
eyes wide open, for while he was engaged in 
conversation with the ambassador, de Guerchy's 
equerry took the opportunity to put poison in his 
wine, a performance which D'Eon watched out of 
the corner of his eye. The Chevalier affected 
innocence, but left the wine untasted ; and a few 
days later the French ambassador found himself 
dragged before the tribunals of London, on a charge 
of attempted poisoning. The equerry confessed his 
crime, but de Guerchy, sheltering himself behind 
his rank of ambassador, refused to be tried by a 
judge and jury ; the whole disgraceful business 
was hushed up, and the arch-criminal escaped to 
France. 

This was but one of many attempts to remove 
the Chevalier D'Eon from his enemies' path. On 
one occasion, while returning home late at night, 
he was set on by a gang of hired ruffians, but he 
wielded his sword with such skill and vigour that 
he laid low three of his assailants, and the rest took 
to their heels. Several attempts were also made 
to induce him to return to France, the Due de 



MADAME "LE CHEVALIER" 135 

Choiseul, one of his bitterest enemies, writing most 
amiable letters to **my dear D'Eon," with this 
object ; but the Chevalier was much too old a bird 
to be caught thus easily, and baffled all the schemes 
to entrap and to do away with him. 

The principal object of these attempts was to 
recover certain papers in D'Eon's custody containing 
details of a plan for the invasion of England 
arranged by the orders of Louis XV. himself 
within two months of the signing of the Treaty 
of Paris, papers which the King's enemies were 
prepared to go to any extremes to possess. It 
speaks well for D'Eon's sense of loyalty and honour 
that he was not only ready to sacrifice his life in 
defence of these incriminating documents, but, 
although he was in dire financial straits, he in- 
dignantly declined an offer of ^20,000 for them, by 
the leaders of the English Opposition. So grati- 
fied was Louis by such evidences of loyalty that he 
bestowed on him a yearly pension of 12,000 livres, 
a mark of royal recognition which was as grateful 
to the Chevalier as it was financially welcome. 

After the death of Louis XV. D'Eon again fell 
on evil days, and it became necessary to make 
terms with his successor ; and it was during his 
negotiations for this purpose, with M. Beaumarchais, 
that the Chevalier made the fatal mistake of 
confessing that he was a woman, a blunder which 
compelled him to assume that sex for the remainder 
of his life. A similar confession he seems to 
have made also to M. Gudin, who accompanied 
Beaumarchais to London, and who relates that 
"he met that interesting woman, M'lle D'Eon, 
at a dinner given by Lord Mayor Wilkes, when, 



136 MADAME "LE CHEVALIER" 

bursting Into tears, she owned to me that she was 
a female, and showed me her legs covered with the 
scars of wounds, which she had received when, her 
horse having been shot dead under her, a squadron 
of cavalry passed over her body, and she was left 
lying on the field, supposed to be dead." 

This confession led to serious results for D'Eon, 
for it prevented him from insisting on his claim to 
be reinstated as French Minister Plenipotentiary 
in London, and caused the French Government to 
insist on his assuming the garments of his admitted 
sex. So far did D'Eon carry his folly, that on the 
margin of the covenant between himself and 
Beaumarchais, arranging a continuance of his 
pension of 12,000 livres, he himself wrote, *'the 
said Demoiselle D'Eon has been proved by wit- 
nesses, physicians, surgeons, midwives and legal 
documents." She (for as a woman D'Eon must 
now be considered) further covenanted to "wear 
in future female attire," which she had already 
worn, she asserted, ''upon several occasions known 
to his Majesty." The die was now cast. D'Eon 
by his own act had brought his career as a man to 
an end ; and the Doctor of Laws, Chevalier, gallant 
soldier and astute diplomat, must henceforth be 
known to the world as a woman. In spite, how- 
ever, of this formal admission of sex, D'Eon still 
continued to masquerade as a man, although she 
refused an offer of 8000 louis d'or if she would 
submit herself to a jury, authorised to pronounce 
upon her sex. On this news leaking out, the wager- 
ing of the public became more heated than ever. 
As Telfer says, ''upwards of ^120,000 had been 
underwritten in the City. Some of the claims were 



MADAME "LE CHEVALIER" 137 

very large ; that of a certain M. Panchaud of Paris 
is said to have amounted to ;^75,ooo. In an action 
brought by a surgeon named Hayes against an 
underwriter, a Dr Le Goux swore that * of his 
certain knowledge, D'Eon was a woman, as he had 
attended her in sickness.*" 

The fear of losing her pension by her continued 
refusal to accept the condition of wearing female 
attire at last determined D'Eon to yield, and on 
6th August 1777 she first appeared in London 
** dressed in an elegant sack with a head-dress 
adorned with diamonds." On the following day 
she entertained a number of friends at dinner in 
Brewer Street, one of whom, then a child, recalled 
her in later years, as *'a lusty dame, without the 
least beard, dressed in black silk with a head-dress 
in rose toupet and lace cap, a diamond necklace, 
long stays and an old-fashioned stomacher." 

A few days after this banquet, D'Eon was back 
again on her native soil, from which she had so 
long been an exile — and with the quaint perversity 
of her new sex she arrived in France in her red 
and green uniform of captain of dragoons, and 
with the cross of St Louis glittering on her breast. 
The authorities, indignant at such a breach of 
faith, insisted that D'Eon must at once put on the 
attire of her sex, but she pleaded that she had no 
adequate wardrobe. Marie Antoinette came to her 
assistance and instructed Mademoiselle Bertin, the 
Court milliner, to prepare an outfit such as ''would 
have sufficed for any four girls of the royal house 
of St Cyr." In referring to this warrant, D'Eon 
wrote a few days later, *' I could not appear at 
Versailles in the few articles of female clothing 



138 MADAME "LE CHEVALIER" 

that remained to me. I needed new ones, and 
M'lle Bertin undertakes not only to have them 
made for me but also to turn me into a passably 
modest and obedient woman. ... It would be 
easier for me to play the part of a lion than that 
of a lamb, that of a captain of volunteers than that 
of a gentle and obedient girl." 

A few weeks later we find D'Eon paying a visit, 
again dressed as a bold dragoon, to the aged mother 
whom she had not seen for eighteen years and who 
now greeted her wandering son as daughter in 
spite of her masculine garb. Back again at Ver- 
sailles she appears to have put on her new female 
finery ; for at a feast of St Ursula she appeared 
** arrayed in sumptuous female attire, anointed with 
perfumes and adorned with bracelets, a necklace, 
earrings and rings, in which guise she was solemnly 
presented at Court." 

Her appearance in Paris caused a great sensa- 
tion, curious and amused crowds following her 
whenever she ventured into the streets. Some 
entertaining stories are told of this visit. Once, 
to a lady who said to her, '' Chevalier, when you 
were a man you had, I remember, a very handsome 
leg," she retorted, as she pulled up her petticoats, 
" Parbleu ! if you are curious to see it again, here 
it is." She made open fun of her petticoats and 
cap, saying on one occasion, '* It is very hard, after 
having been a captain, to be degraded to a cornet " 
(a word which in French signifies a woman's head- 
dress as well as a subaltern of horse). 

**As to the person and stature of our female 
hero," wrote a contributor to The Gentleman s 
Magazine, " M'lle D'Eon has a handsome neck and 



MADAME "LE CHEVALIER" 139 

bosom, and appears to advantage as a woman. 
Indeed, as she formerly made herself a beard, her 
chin is furnished with some hairs, which she 
employs herself with nipping ; her complexion is 
fair ; her stature about five feet four inches. She 
makes her curtsey in a rustic fashion without 
moving her thighs, but bending her knees forward 
with great quickness. On being advised to put 
on some rouge, her answer was that she had tried 
it, but that it would not stick on her face." 

Mademoiselle D'Eon appears to have found 
some difficulty in breaking away from old masculine 
habits, for we are told that, ''having always, in her 
former state of life, shown great attention to the 
ladies, she finds it difficult to restrain it ; at table 
when she sits near them, she is always ready to fill 
their glasses ; at coffee, no sooner has a lady 
emptied her cup, than D'Eon, springs from her 
chair to hand it to the table " — all of which must 
have been a cause of considerable amusement to 
the ladies thus gallantly waited on. 

Mademoiselle found her new character a source 
of such embarrassment that she was often unable 
to face the battery of curious eyes which was 
trained on her wherever she was seen, and would 
hide her face in her muff like some shy schoolgirl ; 
and she pleaded quite pathetically for permission 
to wear men's clothes on weekdays, only reserving 
her skirts for Sundays and festivals — a permission 
which was refused. 

After a few years of retirement in the town of 
her birth she left France to make her permanent 
home in England, now fully resigned to her female 
character and habiliments. Here she found her 



140 MADAME "LE CHEVALIER" 

chief recreation in her old pastime of fencing, in 
which she exhibited such skill that she was invited 
to meet the best fencers of the day in exhibition 
matches. In a match at Carlton House, in the 
presence of the Prince of Wales, she was pitted 
against Saint Georges, a fencer of European reputa- 
tion ; and though ** encumbered with three petti- 
coats, she not only parried all the thrusts of her 
powerful antagonist, but even touched him by what 
is termed a coup de tdmps^ which all his dexterity 
could not ward off." 

At this time, it should be remembered, D'Eon, 
was in her sixtieth year, and Saint Georges was 
in the prime of his manhood. A little later we find 
her appearing, again before the Prince of Wales, 
at the King's Theatre, where she fenced in armour, 
wearing a casque and plume to represent Minerva 
or Joan of Arc. At Ranelagh, Bath, Oxford and a 
dozen other towns she gave exhibitions of fencing, 
receiving in one bout such a severe thrust that she 
was disabled and confined to bed for some months. 

The latter years of this remarkable man-woman 
were pathetically clouded by poverty. In spite of 
a subscription raised for her, and a benefit given 
by the managers of Ranelagh, she was reduced to 
such straits that she was compelled to sell her 
jewellery and plate at Christie's — a pair of earrings, 
it is interesting to note, realising ;^i55, and a 
diamond cross and chain £\\o. When this money 
was exhausted, chiefly in paying her debts, she was 
dependent on the charity of a few devoted friends, 
and on a small annuity, of ^50 a year, provided by 
the Duke of Queensberry, better remembered 
as '^Old Q." 



MADAME "LE CHEVALIER" 141 

In her later years she lived, says Angelo, '*a 
few doors beyond Astley's Theatre. She always 
dressed in black silk and (towards the close of her 
life) looked like a woman worn out with age and 
care " ; while she herself records that her life *' was 
spent in eating, drinking and sleeping, prayers, 
writing and working with Mrs Cole (her friend 
and landlady), repairing linen, gowns and head- 
dresses." 

After passing her eightieth birthday she became 
almost bedridden and, growing weaker and weaker, 
passed away peacefully on the morning of 31st May 
1 8 10. The secret which for fifty years and more 
had puzzled and tantalised Europe was no longer 
in her keeping. Her death revealed the fact that 
UEon was a man, and the doctor who dissected 
the body, in the presence of the Earl of Yarborough, 
Sir Sidney Smith and others, gave a certificate 
to this effect — that D'Eon was of the masculine sex 
and of that sex only. We are told, however, that 
" the throat was by no means like a man's ; that the 
shoulders were square, the breast remarkably full, 
the arms, hands and fingers those of a stout female; 
the hips were very small and the legs and feet 
corresponded with the arms." 

Great as was the amazement throughout Europe at 
this revelation, no one was more astonished than old 
Mrs Cole, D'Eon's landlady, who had never doubted 
for a moment that her companion of so many years 
was a woman ; and who was so overwhelmed by 
the discovery that she did not recover from the 
shock for several hours. 



THE SECRET OF THE ILE SAINTE- 
MARGUERITE 

Who was the mysterious man who for more than 
forty years was immured within prison walls, first 
at Pinerolo in the Italian Alps, later in the He 
Sain te- Marguerite, and lastly in the Bastille, for- 
bidden under pain of death to show his face even 
to his gaolers or to breathe a word that might 
betray his identity ; and every trace of whom 
was so ruthlessly destroyed when at last death 
brought him a tardy release from his miseries ? 
Some declared that he was none other than the 
Due de Vendome, one of Anne of Austria's 
favourites, on whom Cardinal Mazarin's jealousy 
had wreaked this terrible vengeance ; others as- 
serted with equal confidence that he was Charles 
n.'s natural son, the Duke of Monmouth; while 
some dared to whisper that he was a very near 
kinsman to Louis XIV., the "grand monarque" 
himself. 

The few who knew his true identity, also knew 
that it was only at the cost of life that they could 
betray it. Madame de Pompadour and others of 
the royal mistresses practised all their wiles in vain 
to learn the secret ; Louis XVI. refused point-blank 
to communicate it to Marie Antoinette ; and M. de 
Chamillard, although his son-in-law the Marechal 
de la Feuillade went on his knees as the minister 
lay dying, begging him to reveal the mystery, 

142 



SECRET OF THE ILE SAINTE-MARGUERITE 143 

answered with his last breath that he could not and 
dared not do so. 

It was a woman who at last succeeded in raising 
the veil which had so long concealed the mystery. 
Although the Regent had refused to reveal the 
secret to Louis XV. on the day before his royal 
ward reached his majority, he succumbed at last to 
the pleading of his daughter, the Duchesse de 
Berry, when, flinging herself into her father's arms, 
she besought him with cries and sobs to tell it 
to her. A few hours later the papers which held 
the clue to the mystery were in the hands of the 
Due de Richelieu, the Duchesse's lover, and the 
story which they revealed was surely the most 
remarkable ever committed to paper. 

This singular document was headed, ** Account 
of the Birth and Education of the Unhappy Prince, 
restrained in prison by the Order of Louis XIV., 
told by the Prince's governor on his Death-bed " ; 
and in brief outline this is the story it tells. 

At midday on the 5th of September 1638 Louis 
XIII.'s queen, Anne of Austria, after more than 
twenty childless years, gave birth to an heir to the 
crown of France, to the great delight of her royal 
husband. But the King's pleasure was short-lived; 
for, a few hours later, he was warned by the 
midwife that her Majesty would bear a second 
child, news which he dreaded, for, long previously, 
he had been warned by prophecies that the Queen 
would bear two sons, and it was being said in Paris 
that if she should bring forth two dauphins, as 
foretold, it would be the height of misfortune for 
the state. The news threw the King into a state 
of great consternation, for there was no provision in 



144 SECRET OF THE ILE SAINTE-MARGUERITE 

the Salic law for such a contingency as the birth 
of twin heirs to the throne ; and his alarm 
was heightened by Cardinal Richelieu, whom he 
hurriedly sent for, and who promptly declared that, 
if a second child should be born, his birth must be 
carefully concealed, ** for he might in future wish 
to become King and fight his brother to elevate a 
second line in the State and reign." 

What was foretold, happened, for the Queen was 
delivered during the King's supper and gave birth 
to a second son more delicate and beautiful than 
the first, who never ceased to wail and cry, as if he 
already felt regret at having entered a life in which 
he would have so much to suffer. Louis, in his 
dilemma, determined to follow the Cardinal's advice ; 
all who were present at the second child's birth 
were sworn to secrecy, and the infant was at once 
taken away in charge of the midwife, who was 
threatened with death if she ever revealed his 
identity. Under such conditions of mystery and 
tragedy opened the life of the most unhappy prince 
who was ever cradled. Banished from the palace 
of his royal parents, the infant Prince was tenderly 
cared for in the humble home of his foster-mother 
until, in early boyhood, he was handed over to the 
care of a nobleman, one of those who had sworn 
to guard the secret of his birth ; and under his 
careful direction the Prince grew up to young 
manhood, handsome and intelligent beyond his 
fellows and bearing in his graceful and dignified 
exterior all the marks of his royal origin. Long, 
however, before this period of his life had been 
reached he had puzzled his brain in vain to discover 
who he was. That he was no ordinary youth was 



SECRET OF THE ILE SAINTE-MARGUERITE 145 

proved by the money lavished on him, and by the 
deference paid to him even by his noble guardian. 
Who were his parents, where were they, and why 
was he not with them, were questions which filled 
his mind, and to which he could find no answer. 
One day, however, the solution to this puzzle came 
to him with dramatic suddenness. The secret of 
his birth was revealed, and he was overwhelmed 
by it. 

During his guardian's absence he came across an 
open despatch-box full of letters ; and impelled by 
curiosity he examined them. They were from the 
Queen and Cardinal Mazarin (Richelieu's successor), 
and in them he read words which could only have 
one meaning and that, for him, more bewildering 
and dazzling than even he, in his wildest conjec- 
tures, had ever dreamed of. He, the outcast, the 
no man's child, was son of the late King of France 
and twin-brother of the glorious Louis XIV., then 
occupying the most splendid throne in Europe — a 
throne which — could it be possible ? — should have 
been his ! 

Here was a dramatic revolution in his life, and a 
splendid vista opened to a youth whose birth had 
hitherto been wrapped in obscurity ! But could it 
be true.** If he was indeed twin-brother of Louis 
XIV. there must be such a resemblance in features 
as would place the matter beyond all doubt. His 
guardian, whom he asked, declared that he had no 
portrait of the King. But there was in the house 
a pretty young governess who loved the Prince 
passionately and who could procure one for him. 
From her he got a portrait of Louis, and the 
moment his eyes fell on it he saw that, feature for 

K 



146 SECRET OF THE ILE SAINTE-MARGUERITE 

feature, it was his own exact presentment. So 
faithful indeed was the Hkeness that he, and not the 
great monarch, might have sat for it ! 

Jubilant at the discovery, and furious that the 
secret of his birth had been kept from him, he 
rushed with the tell-tale portrait into the presence 
of his guardian, exclaiming, " Behold, my brother! 
and this is who I am." But never was a discovery 
more fatal in its consequences. The Prince's 
guardian, in his consternation and alarm, immedi- 
ately despatched a messenger to inform the King 
what had happened ; and within a few hours the 
angry Sovereign gave orders that both guardian 
and Prince should be immured in the pestilential 
fortress-prison of Pinerolo, in the Italian Alps, 
where the cold and dampness were so terrible that 
"the hair of prisoners came off and their teeth 
dropped out." And here the Prince's governor, 
whose only crime had been his loyalty, shortly died, 
leaving his royal charge to a fate infinitely more to 
be dreaded than death. 

Such was the strange and terrible story which 
the Regent, in a moment of parental weakness, had 
entrusted to his daughter's keeping, little dreaming 
that through her the secret so long jealously guarded 
would one day become the property of a horrified 
world. It was the long-sought clue to the identity 
of the " unknown prisoner " whose cruel fate had so 
roused the pity and anger of Europe, and who now 
stood revealed as the son of Louis XIII., con- 
demned by his father and his twin-brother to a life 
which was worse than death, that their throne might 
stand secure. 

It would be difificult to imagine anything more 



I 



SECRET OF THE ILE SAINTE-MARGUERITE 147 

pitiful than the plight of this ill-starred Prince after 
the death of his guardian and only friend. By this 
time the fierce sense of injury which had found 
vent in outbursts of impotent fury had given place 
to a hopeless resignation. Shut away from all sight 
of the outer world in his cell, with its walls stream- 
ing with moisture or hanging with icicles, forbidden 
to exchange a word with the grim warder who 
brought him food and drink twice a day, it is little 
wonder that he became a prey to a deep-seated 
melancholy or that he prayed for death to come and 
end his sufferings. 

His brother, in distant Paris, revelling in his 
splendour and his pleasures, seemed to have for- 
gotten his very existence until one day it was 
brought rudely to his memory. Rummaging 
among his mother's jewels in search of a trinket 
to give to one of his many lady-loves, Louis ac- 
cidentally came across a bundle of papers in the 
handwriting of the late Queen, which contained 
references to her unhappy son. This reminder of 
his brother's existence filled Louis with alarm. 
Several of the countries of Europe were in arms 
against him ; the prison-fortress in the Italian Alps 
might fall into the hands of one or other of them, 
and with it the Prince himself. The possibility was 
appalling ; for in such an event his throne was not 
safe for a moment. Europe to a man would take 
up arms for his ill-used brother against himself, and 
his crown, and probably his life itself, would be the 
forfeit. At any cost the prisoner must be removed 
to a place of greater safety ; and the plan was soon 
arranged. 

One day, after the Prince had spent about nine 



148 SECRET OF THE ILE SAINTE-MARGUERITE 

years in his Pinerolo prison, his gaoler announced 
that a French nobleman had arrived and desired a 
few minutes' conversation with him. Trembling 
and agitated, the announcement so affected the 
prisoner that for a time he was unable to speak. 
Had it come at last, the long-despaired-of day of 
freedom ? The thought was intoxicating, over- 
whelming in the emotion it excited. *' Who is the 
gentleman ? " he asked when at last he had mastered 
himself sufficiently to speak. " The Marquis of 
Cinq-Mars," was the answer. " Cinq-Mars ! " He 
recalled the name as one of honour and high repute 
in France. It was a name moreover associated 
with freedom ; for was it not a Cinq-Mars who had 
helped to assassinate Richelieu, one of his own 
chief enemies ? The bearer of such a name could 
surely bring none but good news — news that his 
brother, the King, had at last relented and that he 
was to be restored to freedom. 

" Tell M. de Cinq-Mars that 1 shall be pleased 
to see him," he said to the gaoler ; and a moment 
later a tall, handsome, splendidly attired officer was 
greeting him with a deep obeisance and a low 
sweep of his plumed hat. " Monseigneur," said 
the magnificent stranger, '* I am instructed by the 
King to give you this small parcel, containing an 
article, the use of which your Highness will under- 
stand when you have read his Majesty's commands. 
With your Highness's permission I will withdraw 
while you read one and inspect the other." When 
the door had closed behind the Marquis the prisoner 
took the order and read it. With feverish fingers 
he untied the parcel, from which an iron mask fell 
with a loud clatter. Then, with a cry of heart- 



SECRET OF THE ILE SAINTE-MARGUERITE 149 

piercing agony and despair, he fell senseless to the 
floor. 

'* A few days later," says Voltaire in his *' Siecle 
de Louis XIV.," *'an unknown prisoner was 
sent, in the utmost secrecy, to the He de Sainte- 
Marguerite, off the coast of France. He was above 
the middle height, young, and had the most noble 
and handsome features. During the journey the 
prisoner wore a mask, the chin-piece of which had 
springs of steel which allowed him to eat with the 
mask on his face. Orders had been given to kill 
him if he uncovered himself." 

For twenty-nine years the Prince remained in this 
terrible island prison, wearing night and day the 
iron mask, the removal of which, even for a moment, 
might betray that fatal likeness to the ''great and 
glorious Louis XIV. — the sun-god " ; and no soul, 
of the few who knew his identity, dared to breathe 
a word lest an equally dreadful fate should befall 
him. 

The agonies he suffered during this lifetime of 
awful isolation, brooding, until his brain reeled and 
reason tottered on her throne, over the cruelty and 
hopelessness of his fate, no pen can portray. His 
proud spirit was at last humbled in the dust ; and 
his greatest ambition was to die and thus end 
a misery too great for human flesh to bear. No 
words of complaint escaped his lips ; indeed his 
patience and the mute pathos of his anguish touched 
the hearts of the most callous of his gaolers. 

In the early days of his imprisonment in the 
island he made several futile attempts to get into 
touch with the outer world, one of which is thus 
described by Voltaire. " One day the prisoner 



150 SECRET OF THE ILE SAINTE-MARGUERITE 

wrote his name with a knife on a silver plate and 
threw the plate out of the window towards a boat 
which was at the foot of the wall. A fisherman, to 
whom the boat belonged, picked up the plate and 
took it to the Governor. He, startled, asked the 
fisherman : 

*' ' Have you read what is on this plate, and has 
anyone else seen you with it ? ' 

*' * I do not know how to read,' replied the fisher- 
man. ' I have only just found it, and no one has 
seen me.' 

*'The peasant was detained until the Governor 
ascertained for a fact that he had never learned to 
read and that no one had seen him. 

*' ' Go,' he said ; * it is very lucky for you that 
you cannot read ! ' " 

On another occasion, it is said, a friar found 
in the water near the prison a folded shirt of fine 
linen on which the Prince had written the story of 
his birth and his cruel fate. The shirt was at once 
taken to the Governor of the prison by its unlucky 
finder, who, although he swore that he had not read 
a word of what was on it, was found dead in his 
bed two days later — another victim to the fiendish 
conspiracy of which the Prince was the object. 

Even death seemed to be in the conspiracy, for 
though he prayed earnestly for it every day it 
refused to come to his relief. After twenty-nine 
years of worse than death in Sainte-Marguerite's 
Island the man in the iron mask was at last mercifully 
removed to the Bastille, which, dreaded prison 
though it was, seemed to him Paradise compared 
with the horrors from which it released him. 

Here, we are told, *'he was refused nothing 



SECRET OF THE ILE SAINTE-MARGUERITE 151 

that he asked for, and his principal taste was for 
linen of an extraordinary fine quality and for laces. 
He played upon the guitar; they fed him as well as 
possible, and the Governor rarely seated himself In 
his presence. But all this homage to his rank only 
served to mock him In his misery. The Iron mask 
had now been changed for one of velvet, which like 
its predecessor was never raised for a moment 
night or day ; even to the doctor he was only per- 
mitted to speak through the mask ; he might show 
his tongue, but never his face." 

And thus it was until his last day, which was now 
happily near. For forty-three years that terrible 
mask concealed the features which would have pro- 
claimed his kinship to the King, and he drew his 
last breath within Its grim environment. 

**On Monday, November 19th, 1703," the bald 
prison record runs, " The Unknown Prisoner, 
always masked with a mass of black velvet, whom 
M. de Cinq-Mars brought with him from the He 
Sainte- Marguerite, finding himself yesterday a little 
worse when coming out from the Mass, died to-day 
about 10 o'clock at night without having had a great 
illness. Surprised by death he was unable to receive 
the Sacraments, and our Almoner exhorted him for 
a minute before dying. He was interred Tuesday, 
Nov. 20th, at four in the afternoon. In the Cemetery 
of Saint Paul, our parish. His interment cost forty 
ivres. 

Thus obscurely perished, at the age of sixty-five, 
a prince who. If he had but entered life a few hours 
earlier, would have been one of the world s greatest 
sovereigns and whose only crime was that he was not 
wanted. His very name was unknown to those 



152 SECRET OF THE ILE SAINTE-MARGUERITE 

who conducted his burial service ; and it was said 
that his head was either cut off or his features 
gashed after death, while quicklime or chemicals 
which would consume the body were placed in his 
coffin. 

Nor did this desecration of his remains satisfy 
his royal brother and persecutor. No trace of his 
existence must be allowed to survive him. Every- 
thing that had been used by him or associated with 
him was destroyed ; his silver dinner service was 
melted down, his furniture and bedding were con- 
sumed by fire, and the very walls which had been 
mute witnesses of his tragedy were scraped and 
replastered, lest some tell-tale scratch should reveal 
to keen eyes the story of one of the greatest wrongs 
which ever blackened the pages of human history. 



THE KING AND THE PRETTY 
QUAKERESS 

Of all the romantic stories of royal mesalliances 
there is not one at once more alluring and more 
tantalising than that of George HI. and Hannah 
Lightfoot, the demure and pretty Quakeress, 
whom he is said to have made his wife while he 
was still in his teens — a story which every cir- 
cumstance seems to conspire to invest with fas- 
cination and mystery. 

Even as a youth, when the fancy most ** lightly 
turns to thoughts of love," George was noted for 
his indifference to female charflis. He was de- 
scribed as '* dull-witted and unsentimental to the 
last degree " ; Horace Walpole, who had a keen 
scent for scandal, dismisses him as " chaste " ; 
while his tutor once said, *' although the Prince 
has the greatest temptation to gallant with the 
ladies, who lay themselves out in the most shame- 
less manner to draw him in, they were powerless 
to attract him. * If I were not what I am they 
would take no notice of me,' was his discerning if 
somewhat cynical way of speaking of their allure- 
ments. . . . He has no tendency to vice, and has 
as yet virtuous principles." Such was the prince's 
character, as given by one in an exceptional 
position to judge of it at the very time he is said 
to have fallen under the spell of an obscure, if 
charming, little Quakeress, and to have carried 
153 



154 THE KING AND THE PRETTY Ql AKERESS 

his infatuation to the extreme of mak ng her his 
wife. 

In much later years, too, George expressed the 
utmost abhorrence of similar lapses in his own 
family. When his brother, the Duke of Cumber- 
land, married that bewitching Irish widow, Mrs 
Horton, his anger knew no bounds. He called 
him " fool " and '' villain " and ordered him out of 
his sight. And when his other brother, the Duke 
of Gloucester, made a similar mdsalliance with 
Lady Waldegrave, he was so furious that, when 
his rage had spent itself, he passed the night in 
hysterical tears. 

Over his eldest son's amours he was still more 
virtuously indignant. '* I thank Heaven," he wrote 
to Lord North, ''my morals and course of life have 
but little resembled those too prevalent in the 
present age ; and certainly, of all the objects of 
this life, the one I have most at heart is to form 
my children that they may be useful examples and 
worthy of imitation." In a later letter to Lord 
North on the subject of the Prince of Wales' 
relations with Mrs Robinson, he speaks more 
plainly still. " I am happy," the letter concludes, 
** at being able to say that / never was personally 
engaged in such a transaction, which perhaps makes 
me feel this the stronger." 

Here surely we have abundant evidence to 
suggest that George III. was one of the least 
likely of men to become a slave to passion or to 
allow himself to engage in a love intrigue that led 
to the altar. And yet in spite of its inherent 
improbability, and of the obscurity and contradic- 
tions in which the story is involved, there seems 



THE KING AND THE PRETTY QUAKERESS 155 

little doubt that he lost his heart completely to 
Hannah Lightfoot, and a possibility that he made 
her his wife and the legitimate mother of his 
children. Such at least is the conclusion at which 
I have been compelled to arrive after a very careful 
investigation of all the evidences. 

It is rather singular and perhaps a little significant 
that one finds very few references during George's 
long life to this amour. Indeed Mr Lewis Melville, 
who has investigated the matter thoroughly, appears 
to have discovered only two. In the Citizen of 
24th February 1776 the following advertisement 
appears : — *' Court Fragments. Which will be pub- 
lished for the Use, Instruction and Amusement of 
Royal Infants and young, promising Noblemen. 
I. The History and Adventures of Miss L-hf— t, 
the fair Quaker, wherein will be faithfully portrayed 
some striking pictures of female constancy and 
princely gratitude, which terminated in the un- 
timely death of that lady and the sudden death of 
a disconsolate mother." And again. The Royal 
Register for 1779 has this passage: ** It is not 
believed even at this time by many persons who 
live in the world that King George had a mistress 
previous to his marriage. Such a circumstance was 
reported by many, believed by some, disputed by 
others, but proved by none ; and with such a 
suitable caution was this intrigue conducted that 
if the body of the people called Quakers, of which 
this young lady in question was a member, had 
not divulged the fact by the public proceedings of 
their meeting concerning it, it would in all prob- 
ability have remained a matter of doubt to this 
day." 



156 THE KING AND THE PRETTY QUAKERESS 

From this statement it would appear that there 
had been a great deal of gossip and speculation 
about the King's relations with the Quakeress 
within a few years of the romance itself, and that 
Hannah's conduct had come under the notice of 
the leaders of the sect of which she was a member. 
It thus seems clear that there was some foundation 
for the story which in later years assumed such a 
circumstantial form. 

Having thus in a measure cleared the ground let 
us get to the story itself, one of the most romantic 
and mysterious in the secret annals of royalty. 
And it must be premised that it is told largely on 
the authority of Hannah's own relatives and intimate 
friends, living at the time and in a position to know 
the truth. 

It seems that Hannah Lightfoot was the daughter 
of a small linendraper in St James's market, at 
the back of the Haymarket. '* I well remember 
the shop," writes a contributor to The Monthly 
Magazine. *' It was a linendraper 's ; and as the 
principal part of the business lay with the country 
market people, the proprietors were accustomed to 
keep a cask of good ale, a glass of which was 
always offered to their customers. At that time 
the ravages of the small-pox, unchecked by inocula- 
tion, left but few women who were not marked by 
its destructive powers ; and the possessors of a 
fair, unsullied face were followed by crowds of 
admirers. Such was the case of the Misses 
Gunning, who paraded the Mall in St James's 
Park, guarded by a troop of admirers with drawn 
swords, to prevent the populace from encroaching 
on this hallowed spot sacred to gentility. The 



THE KING AND THE PRETTY QUAKERESS 157 

train of Miss L — , as she passed to and from the 
meeting in Hemming 's Row, St Martin's Lane, 
was as numerous." 

But the pretty Quakeress had much more than a 
face unmarked by small-pox to commend her to the 
favour of the opposite sex. " With her dainty little 
head running over with golden curls, large blue 
eyes dancing with merriment and mischief, dimpled 
cheeks with a bloom as delicate as any peach, and 
with a petite figure as graceful as that of a sylph, 
one cannot wonder that Hannah, whose charms 
were enhanced by her demure Quaker dress, set 
going pit-a-pat the heart of every gallant whose 
eyes fell on so fair a vision." 

Such is one of many descriptions of the maid 
who enslaved a king ; and although it may owe a 
little to the writer's imagination it is largely borne 
out by a miniature of the little Quakeress which I 
have seen in the possession of one of her reputed 
descendants by her royal lover. In the miniature 
the face is oval and rather long, with small and 
delicately modelled features, and with an expression 
of demure modesty in keeping rather with her 
character as a Quakeress than as the inspirer of a 
royal passion. 

It may be that the fame of Hannah's beauty, 
which must have been the subject of much gossip, 
came to George's ears and stimulated his curiosity; 
or it may be, as asserted by some, that it was the 
accidental sight of her while passing through St 
James's market on his way to the Opera, or to 
Parliament, that first set the prince's heart in a 
flutter. Of this nothing seems to be certainly 
known. ** Hannah Lightfoot," says one writer, 



158 THE KING AND THE PRETTY QUAKERESS 

"when residing with her father and mother, was 
frequently seen by the King when he drove by, 
going to and from ParHament House." "The 
Prince," says another writer, "had often noticed 
her in his way from Leicester House to St James', 
and was struck with her person." Whatever the 
truth may be, there seems little doubt that the first 
meeting of the lovers, so widely severed in rank, 
and whose lives were to be so closely linked, was 
accidental, and that it kindled the fire of love in 
George's sluggish breast. 

"The Prince," writes Robert Huish, in his "Life 
of George HL," "though surrounded with all the 
emblems of Royalty, and invested with sovereign 
authority, was nevertheless but a man, subject to 
all the frailties of his nature, impelled by the 
powerful tide of passion. . . . His affections be- 
came enchained ; he looked no more to Saxe- 
Gotha nor to Brunswick for an object on which to 
lavish his love ; he found one in the secret recesses 
of Hampton, whither he often repaired, concealed 
by the protecting shades of night, and there he 
experienced what seldom falls to the lot of princes 
— the bliss of the purest love." 

Huish is probably wrong in giving Hampton as 
the secret meeting-place of the young prince and 
his low-born lady-love. It is more probable that 
Knightsbridge was the trysting-place, and that it 
was under the roof of a man named Perryn, a 
relative of Hannah, that George was thus enabled 
to taste "the bliss of the purest love." It is said 
that Miss Elizabeth Chudleigh, one of Queen 
Charlotte's maids of honour (later, the notorious 
Duchess of Kingston), arranged these clandestine 



THE KING AND THE PRETTY QUAKERESS 159 

meetings and generally made matters smooth for 
the young lovers ; and one can well believe it, for 
it was eminently a role in which this lady would 
revel. 

But, in spite of this carefully planned secrecy, 
news of the prince's escapade seems to have come 
to the ears of his royal relatives, to their great 
consternation. Here was a shocking state of affairs 
— the heir to the throne of England, who had just 
refused point-blank to marry the Princess Sophia 
of Brunswick, engaged in a low intrigue with a 
shopkeeper's daughter, and, for anything they knew, 
possibly married to her! It would be impossible 
to conceive a greater calamity. At all costs the 
foolish prince must be extricated from this terrible 
dilemma ; or at least he must be prevented from 
consummating his folly by marrying the girl. 

The first step was obviously to find a husband 
for her elsewhere and at once ; and this proved to 
be no difficult matter. It was discovered that 
Hannah had, among her many suitors before her 
Prince Charming stole her away, a young man called 
Isaac Axford, who served behind the counter of one 
Barton or Bolton, a grocer in Ludgate Hill. Axford 
had lost his heart to the fair Quakeress, whom he 
had served with groceries for some time past ; and 
when it was proposed by the Court emissary that 
he should make her his wife forthwith, we may be 
sure he was by no means unwilling, even without 
the large sum of money which was offered as a 
reward for this very agreeable act. How Hannah's 
consent to this high-handed arrangement was 
procured is not known ; but on the evidence of 
Axford's own niece there seems little doubt that the 



160 THE KING AND THE PRETTY QUAKERESS 

marriage actually took place — at Keith's Chapel, 
according to a member of the Lightfoot family. As 
a matter of fact, the Register of Marriages at St 
George's Chapel, Mayfair, contains an entry, under 
date nth December 1753, of the marriage of Isaac 
Axford, of St Martin's, Ludgate, to Hannah Light- 
foot. 

What the prince was doing to allow his enslaver 
thus to become the wife of another is not revealed ; 
nor is it very clear what happened after this singular 
union. Axford does not seem to have been long 
left in undisturbed possession of his bride. Ac- 
cording to one of his friends *'the lady lived six 
weeks with her husband, who was fondly attached 
to her ; but one evening when he happened to be 
from home, a coach-and-four came to the door, when 
she was conveyed into it and carried off at a gallop, 
no one knew whither" ; another deponent declares 
that "after they married they cohabited for a fort- 
night or three weeks, when she was one day called 
out from dinner, and put into a chaise-and-four and 
taken off, and he never saw her afterwards " ; while 
a third account is that "she was taken away from 
the church door the same day they were married, 
and Axford never heard of her afterwards." 

Precisely how long the Ludgate Hill shopman 
kept his unwilling bride from the arms of her royal 
lover is a matter of little concern. If we are to 
believe the evidence, the fact is clear that his 
happiness was short-lived and that within a few 
weeks at the longest she was spirited away under 
romantic and mysterious circumstances. As for the 
disconsolate widower, his later history is as ascer- 
tained as it is uninteresting. He is said to have 



THE KING AND THE PEETTY QUAKERESS 161 

searched far and wide — at Weymouth, Windsor, 
Kew, and elsewhere, for his vanished wife, but all 
to no purpose. All trace of her was lost as effectu- 
ally as if she had vanished into the air. He is said 
even to have petitioned the King himself on bended 
knee for enlightenment, but with no more satis- 
factory result. Finally, abandoning his quest in 
despair, he found solace in another wife, a Miss 
Bartlett, of Keevil, in Wiltshire, and spent the rest 
of his long life as keeper of a grocer's shop at 
Warminster, dying at the good age of eighty- 
five. 

Meanwhile what had become of the bride so 
mysteriously abducted almost before her orange- 
blossoms had had time to fade ? Frankly, nothing 
certain is known of her future life. There is no 
reliable evidence that she was ever seen again ; and 
once more we find ourselves in the nebulous land of 
conjecture. According to a writer in The Monthly 
Magazine, July 1821, *' A retreat was provided for 
Hannah in one of those large houses surrounded 
with a high wall and garden, in the district of Cat- 
and- Mutton Fields, on the east side of Hackney 
Road, leading from Mile End Road, where she 
lived, and, it is said, died." And we are asked to 
believe that in this suburban asylum, shut out from 
the prying world by its lofty walls, the linendraper's 
daughter received her royal lover and bore children 
to him during the few brief years that remained to 
her of life. Could anything be more romantic, more 
mysterious ? But whether she was spirited away to 
the Hackney Road retreat or to some other equally 
safe place, it is probable that the prince at least knew 
the secret of her hiding-place and that he continued 



V, 



162 THE KING AND THE PRETTY QUAKERESS 

the liaison there. Of all her relatives not one 
appears to have caught a glimpse of her after her 
abduction. *' None of her family," says one of them, 
"have seen her since, though her mother had a 
letter or two from her, but at last died of grief." It 
is asserted that Hannah bore several children to the 
prince, of whom three sons rose to high positions in 
the army. 

The eldest of these sons of the Royal George and 
Hannah Lightfoot appears to have emigrated to 
South Africa, where it is said his descendants are 
living and flourishing to-day under the appropriate 
name of Rex. '' I was at the Cape of Good Hope 
in 1830," writes a contributor to Notes and QuerieSy 
in February 1871, **and spent some time at Mr 
George Rex's hospitable residence at the Knysna. 
I understood from him that he had been about 
thirty-four years in the Colony, and I should 
suppose he was about sixty-eight years of age, of 
a strong, robust appearance, and the exact resem- 
blance in features to George HI. This would bring 
him to about the time when George HI. married 
Hannah Lightfoot. On Mr Rex's first arrival in 
the Colony he occupied a high position in the 
Colonial Government, and received an extensive 
grant of land at the Knysna. He retired there and 
made most extensive improvements. His eldest 
son, named John, at the time I was there, was 
living with his father, and will now most probably 
be the representative of George Rex." When, too, 
the Duke of Edinburgh visited Cape Colony in 
1868 he was most hospitably entertained by these 
alleged descendants of his royal great-grandfather 
and the linendraper's daughter. 



THE KING AND THE PRETTY QUAKERESS 163 

In addition to these sons there appears to have 
been at least one daughter of George and Hannah, 
if we are to believe a contributor to The Monthly 
Magazine who writes (in 1821), ** I have lately seen 
a halfpay cavalry officer from India, who knew a 
gentleman of the name of Dalton, who married a 
daughter of this H. Lightfoot by the King, but who 
is dead, leaving several accomplished daughters 
who, with the father, are coming to England. 
These daughters are secluded from society like 
nuns, but no pains spared in their education." 

Whatever may be the precise truth of these 
matters (and this will almost certainly never be 
known) we are reasonably safe in concluding that 
George III. had a love affair with Hannah Light- 
foot and that she bore children to him. The 
evidences, however conflicting in detail, are suffi- 
ciently strong to justify this conclusion. The im- 
portant point to consider now is this, '* Was Hannah 
Lightfoot the wife, and not merely the mistress of 
her princely loyer ? " This is a question, the im- 
portance of which it would be difficult to exaggerate ; 
for if Hannah were legally united to George she 
must have become, on his accession to the throne, 
Queen of England, however unknown and un- 
acknowledged, for the union took place long before 
the Royal Marriage Act was even thought of. 

What evidence is there that there was a marriage 
of this oddly assorted pair? Truth compels the 
answer, — none of the least validity. It is true that 
no less well-informed a person than William Beck- 
ford declared that they were ** married by Dr 
Wilmot at Kew Chapel, in 1759; William Pitt 
(after Earl of Chatham) and one Anne Taylor being 



164 THE KING AND THE PKETTY QUAKERESS 

the witnesses." And in a book called '* The Appeal 
for Royalty," published in 1858, appeared what 
professed to be copies of the marriage certificates, 
one of which is said to be in the handwriting of 
George himself — thus : 

''April ijtk, 1759. 
"The marriage of these parties was this day 
duly solemnised in Kew Chapel, according to the 
rites & ceremonies of the Church of England by 
myself, J. Wilmot. 

''George R. 

*' Hannah. 
** Witnesses to this marriage — 

**W. Pitt. 

** Anne Taylor." 

And: 

''May 2'jtk, 1759. 
"This is to certify that the marriage of these 
parties, George Prince of Wales to Hannah Light- 
foot, was duly solemnised this day according to the 
rites and ceremonies of the Church of England, at 
their residence at Peckham, by myself, 

"J. WiLMOT. 

" George Guelph. 
" Hannah Lightfoot. 
** Witnesses to the marriage of these parties — 
"William Pitt. 
"Anne Taylor." 

More than this, a verbatim copy of Hannah s last 
will and testament is given in these words : 

" Hampstead, July yth, 1768. 
" Provided I depart this life, I recommend my two 
sons and my daughter to the kind protection of 



THE KING AND THE PRETTY QUAKERESS 165 

their Royal Father, my husband, his Majesty 
George III., bequeathing whatever property I die 
possessed of to such dear offspring of my ill-fated 
marriage. In case of the death of each of my 
children, I give and bequeath to Olive Wilmot, the 
daughter of my best friend, Dr Wilmot, whatever 
property I am entitled to or am possessed of at the 
time of my death. — Amen. 

''{Signed) Hannah Regina. 
** Witnesses : — 

**J. Dunning. 

** William Pitt." 

Without dwelling on the obvious inconsistencies 
of these documents, or on the strong improbability 
that Pitt could, under any circumstances, have con- 
nived at such a union, or that Hannah could have 
dubbed herself Regina, it is sufficient to say that 
the documents have been pronounced in a court 
of law ''gross and rank forgeries." And we may 
also dismiss as of doubtful authenticity the state- 
ments in ''The Secret History of the Court of 
England" that George III. during his attack of 
madness in 1805 constantly cried out for "his 
dearly loved wife," "the wife of his choice," while 
showing the utmost abhorrence of his queen ; and 
that Queen Charlotte declared to her son, the 
Prince of Wales, "Your father would have been 
a happier man if he had remained true to his 
marriage with Hannah Lightfoot." These stories 
may or may not be true ; it is unfortunately im- 
possible to say. 

That there were many who firmly believed that 
Hannah was George s lawful wedded wife, in spite 



166 THE KING AND THE PRETTY QUAKERESS 

of the absence of all proof, is beyond question ; and 
it is said that among them was Queen Caroline, the 
unhappy spouse of the fourth George. '' The 
Queen," to quote from a pamphlet published four 
years after George III.'s death, *'at this time 
laboured under a very curious, and to me unac- 
countable species of delusion. She fancied herself 
in reality neither a queen nor a wife. She believed 
his present Majesty (George IV.) to have been 
actually married to Mrs Fitzherbert ; and she as 
fully believed that his late Majesty, George III., 
was married to Miss Hannah Lightfoot, the beauti- 
ful Quakeress, previous to his marriage with Queen 
Charlotte ; that a marriage was a second time 
solemnised at Kew (under the colour of an evening's 
entertainment) after the death of Miss Lightfoot ; 
and as that lady did not die till after the births of 
the present King and His Royal Highness, the 
Duke of York, her Majesty really considered the 
Duke of Clarence the true heir to the Throne. 
Her Majesty thought also that the knowledge of 
this circumstance by the Ministers was the true 
cause of George IV.'s retaining the Tory adminis- 
tration when he came into power. 

** How the Queen came seriously to entertain 
such romantic suppositions as these, it is not for 
me to know. It may be perhaps regarded as a 
melancholy proof of the principles and abilities of 
some persons surrounding royal personages ; but 
that she did entertain them I know well, and let 
any of her Majesty's friends contradict me if they 
can. If they do, and they require me to mention 
my authority, I will do so if called upon in a proper 
manner and in a proper place." 



THE KING AND THE PRETTY QUAKERESS 167 

But interesting as the speculation may be, there 
is small hope that this question of the marriage of 
George III. to the pretty Quakeress will ever be 
extricated from the region of mere surmise. The 
principals, and all who may have been in a position 
to know the truth, have long been dust. It is not 
at all likely that any still undiscovered evidence 
will add to our enlightenment ; and the story must 
remain as inscrutable and tantalising to remote 
posterity as to those who sought in vain for the 
key to its secret in the far-off days when the Prince 
and his Cinderella lived and loved. 



A ROYAL CHANGELING 

When Thomas Wynn, first Baron Newborough in 
the Peerage of Ireland, fared forth from his native 
Wales one day in 1782 to spend a few years of 
retirement in distant Tuscany, he little dreamt, we 
may be sure, that he was destined to play a con- 
spicuous part in one of the most mysterious dramas 
that have baffled the curiosity of the world. 

And never, in fact, was any man less equipped 
by nature or less disposed by temperament to pose 
as a romantic figure. In person he was plain and 
unattractive, in temperament sedate even beyond 
his years ; he was far advanced in the forties, had 
recently lost his wife, a daughter of the second 
Earl of Egmont, and his fortune had been so 
impaired by patriotic extravagance in building 
forts and maintaining a small army of volunteers 
to resist a foreign invasion, that it was necessary 
to face a period of exile for the purpose of 
retrenchment. 

Such was Lord Newborough when he turned his 
back on his stately Welsh homes, Bodvean Hall 
and Glynllivon Park, on his retainers and his 
mortgaged acres, and in company with his ten- 
year - old son made his journey to Southern 
Europe, a dejected and disillusioned man. 

It was to Florence that his lordship first 
directed his steps, and in the lovely Tuscan 
capital, with its gorgeous palaces and churches 

168 



A ROYAL CHANGELING 169 

and its environment of fruitful vineyards and 
gardens, he led the obscure life of a poor refugee, 
known, if at all, by his shabby attire, his sordid 
economies, and his eccentricities of manner. His 
only recreation seems to have been an occasional 
visit to the theatre ; and from this little indulgence 
sprang all the romantic incidents which this story 
will unfold. 

Among the ballerinas at the principal opera 
house in Florence was one whose beauty, grace 
and abandon marked her as a creature apart from 
her companions. With an aureole of rich, auburn 
hair, a complexion of '* cream and roses," dancing 
blue eyes, and a fairylike lightness and grace of 
movement, she seemed the embodiment of childish 
charm and gaiety. To the middle-aged man long 
sated with life's pleasures she came as a revelation 
of new delights of which he had ceased even to 
dream ; and to realise these delights by making 
the little fairy his own became his great ambition. 

*' One day," says Sir Ralph Payne-Gallwey, "a 
letter arrived for the young actress, which her 
father opened and read. He then ordered her to 
dress with speed and care in her best clothes to 
receive a visitor. A plain middle-aged gentleman 
called, who proved to be Lord Newborough. He 
repeated his visits, declared that he had been 
charmed by her appearance on the stage, had 
become enamoured of the girl, and wished to 
marry her. She tells us that she loathed both 
the proposal and the maker of it : but her parents 
impressed on her the advantages of such a grand 
marriage." A few days later, in February 1786, 
Sir Horace Mann, our minister at Florence, wrote 



170 A ROYAL CHANGELING 

home, ** Lord Newborough, who has resided here 
in a very obscure manner since 1782, on the nth 
instant signed a contract of marriage with a sing- 
ing girl about thirteen years of age, the daughter 
of a constable." 

In vain the child rebelled against this monstrous 
union with a man old enough to be her grand- 
father. To her tears and pleadings alike her 
parents turned deaf ears. ** Instead of weeping 
and railing she ought, they said, to be very proud 
and grateful that such a great signor should stoop 
to woo her ; he would make a grand lady of her ; 
and then he was so kind, so devoted — why she 
ought to go down on her knees and kiss his 
hand." The forces arrayed against her were too 
strong, and thus it came to pass that one October 
day in 1786 Maria Stella Chiappini, the constable's 
daughter, stood before the altar of Santa Maria 
Novella, of Florence, by the side of her middle- 
aged bridegroom, and was driven back to Fiesole 
*' my Lady Newborough." 

But let us go back a few years and see under 
what conditions Maria Stella, Baroness New- 
borough, made her first appearance in the strange 
and romantic drama of her life. It was in the 
tiny village of Modigliana, on the slopes of the 
Apennines, that she opened her eyes on the world 
which was to prove so full of tantalising mystery 
to her. In a register of the Church of St Stephen 
you may still read that " Maria Stella Petronilla, 
was born yesterday to Lorenzo Ferdinand Chiap- 
pini, public constable of this place, and Vincentia 
Diligenti, his wife, both of this parish, and was 
baptised on the 17th April, 1773." 



A ROYAL CHANGELING 171 

Maria Stella was the first of the constable's 
children, though others followed quickly ; and 
her earliest memories were of harsh treatment 
by her mother, whose affection was lavished on 
her brothers and sisters — never on herself. For- 
tunately her father was kind ; and the lady at the 
great house of Modigliana, the Countess Camilla 
Borghi, made a special favourite of the pretty 
little daughter of the village constable, often 
inviting her to spend a few days with her, and 
loading her with presents and favours. It was 
a sad day for Maria Stella when her father took 
her away from the village home to Florence, where 
he blossomed into squadron officer of gendarmes ; 
but she found compensation in being taught to 
sing and dance, and her little cup of joy was 
full when, as a child of ten, she was allowed to 
appear on the stage, which three years later was 
to prove the portal to a very different life. 

That it would be a happier life she never dared 
to hope. With her bridal finery still on her, she 
retired to her own room, and spent several days 
in solitary weeping ; nor would she even speak 
to her husband until she was compelled. Lord 
Newborough was ill-equipped to please his child- 
wife. He was jealous, bad-tempered, and so ec- 
centric that a serious effort was made to take the 
management of his own affairs out of his hands. 
Nor were matters improved by the fact that he and 
his wife lived under the same roof as the Chiappini 
family, a circumstance which led to constant friction. 
On one occasion a family quarrel resulted in an 
exchange of blows, and Lord Newborough left the 
house in high dudgeon, his wife refusing to accom- 



172 A ROYAL CHANGELING 

pany him. He had not been gone many hours, 
however, before he wrote threatening suicide unless 
she came to him, to which Maria Stella replied : 

" My dear old Lunatic, — If you wish to give 
me the greatest proof of your affection, hasten to 
carry out your threat." 

It was clear that such an unhappy state of things 
could not be allowed to last long, especially as 
his lordship was constantly being pestered by his 
father-in-law for money (the price of his consent to 
the marriage) and was actually arrested and lodged 
in gaol for delaying payment of the stipulated 
allowance. And thus it came to pass that in the 
summer of 1792 he shook the dust of Italy off his 
feet, and returned with his wife to Wales, where 
they were received with every demonstration of 
joy by his tenants and friends. *' They gave us 
the most splendid reception," Lady Newborough 
records. ''The horses were taken out of our 
carriage, and the people dragged us up to Glyn- 
llivon. We were escorted by six hundred people ; 
and in the evening the park and town and all the 
hills and the country round were brilliantly illumi- 
nated. All the nobility of the neighbourhood came 
to offer us their homage, and for six consecutive 
months it was a continuous feast." 

For some years Lord and Lady Newborough 
lived fairly happily together, dividing their time 
between London and Wales ; and after giving 
birth to two sons, each of whom succeeded in turn 
to the Barony, Maria Stella was left a widow. 
Three years later, she married again, this time 
Baron Edward Ungern- Sternberg, a Russian noble, 



A ROYAL CHANGELING 173 

to whom she bore a son, and from whom she soon 
seems to have become estranged. During all these 
years Maria Stella had no suspicion of the mystery 
that obscured her birth and was now to cloud the 
remainder of her life — a mystery as tantalising 
and as inscrutable as any human being has ever 
attempted to solve. 

It was in the year 1820, ten years after Maria 
Stella's second unhappy marriage, that the veil 
which had so long concealed this mystery from 
her was first lifted. Accompanied by her Russian 
son she had gone to Florence in order to be able 
to see more of her father, whose health was failing. 
Prepared to lavish affection on him and to nurse 
him tenderly, she found every obstacle put in her 
way by her family, while her father, instead of 
welcoming her as a daughter, treated her with a 
chilling deference, always addressing her as Miladi. 
He was evidently brooding over something un- 
known to her, for he muttered vaguely of some 
wrong he had done, and of his gratitude to her, and 
repeated names familiar to her in her childhood. 

One day when she called to see him he was 
evidently near the end. She took his hand, which 
he pressed with his little remaining strength ; and 
as he looked pathetically at her he tried to speak, 
but the only words she could distinguish were these, 
Dio mio ! Barant Baranto. A day or two later he 
was dead. Vainly did Lady Newborough (as I 
still prefer to call her) rack her brain to discover 
the meaning of the mysterious word Baranto, until 
it flashed on her that it might be a corruption of 
darattOy an exchange ; but this solution conveyed 
nothing to her brain. 



174 A ROYAL CHANGELING 

A few months later, however, light came when a 
packet was placed in her hands addressed in the 
handwriting of the dead Chiappini. Its contents 
were indeed startling ; they revolutionised her life. 
After explaining that he had entrusted the letter to 
a friend, in the hope that after his death it might 
reach her, Chiappini (for he was the writer of this 
strange confession) continued : 

" But my daughter you are not, and this denial 
of a relationship which your kindness has made 
me love, is the bitter portion of this confession. 
Instead of being the child of an obscure father in 
a small provincial town, you are by birth that which 
a righteous Providence has made you. About four 
months before your birth a great foreign nobleman 
and his lady arrived in our town with a numerous 
Italian retinue. It was said they were French and 
of illustrious rank and of crreat wealth. The French 
lady was soon hoping to become a mother, and so 
was my wife. I was much astonished by the 
affability of this great foreigner, who sent for me, 
gave me money, and made me drink wine with 
him. After repeated conversations, he told me 
that it was absolutely necessary, on account of the 
weightiest family reasons, that the child to whom 
his Countess was about to give birth should be a 
son ; and he urged me, if it should prove to be a 
daughter, and if my wife bore a son, to allow the 
children to be exchanged. 

** It was in vain that I attempted to dissuade 
him ; and he succeeded in over-persuading me by 
large bribes and offers of favour and protection, to 
consent to the exchange. He assured me that my 
boy should be nobly provided for, and that he 



A ROYAL CHANGELING 175 

would fill one of the highest places in Europe. 
Everything turned out according to the Count's 
precautions. His lady had a daughter, and my 
wife a son ; the children were changed ; I was 
made comparatively rich ; the Countess speedily 
recovered ; and she, her husband, my boy and their 
numerous Italian suite speedily left our quiet little 
town and were never more heard of. 

** For seven years large sums of money were sent 
to me, with the strictest injunctions as to secrecy, 
and horrible threats in the event of my divulging 
the strange story. I was enjoined, above all, to 
keep the matter secret from you when you grew up. 
My wife and my eldest son were alone admitted to 
the full knowledge of the transaction. And this 
will account for their anxiety to prevent any inter- 
course between us ; for they well knew that I had 
long ago repented of the injury that I had done you, 
and that I was anxious to make whatever repara- 
tion to you was still in my power. Truly thankful 
was I when the great English Lord placed you in 
the position to which your birth entitled you ; and 
great was my anxiety, when you returned to Italy, 
to throw myself at your feet, confessing the truth 
and craving your pardon. This was denied me in 
life. I hope that it may please God to cause this 
confession to reach you after my death, and that 
you will even then grant me your pardon. If I had 
it now I should die more contented." 

Maria Stella's feelings as this strange story was 
unfolded to her in the sacred words of a dying 
and now dead man, may be better imagined than 
described. This then was the wonderful secret 
which at last made clear much that had mystified 



176 A ROYAL CHANGELING 

her in the past — the difference between her own 
fair, refined beauty and grace and the dark, bour- 
geois plainness of her sister and brothers ; the 
favour of the Countess Borghi, who no doubt sus- 
pected the story of her birth ; the deference of the 
Chiappinis, and the obstacles they placed in the 
way of intercourse with her father ; and the true 
meaning of the mysterious word Baranto, over 
which she had puzzled so long. 

The sense of the great wrong done to her at her 
birth was merged in the exultant thought that she 
was no peasant's child, but the daughter of a high- 
placed nobleman, and, as such, at least the equal of 
her husband and of all the great people of their 
circle to whom she looked up as to creatures of 
another world. But the natural mood of jubilation 
at finding herself the daughter of a noble house 
soon gave way to an overmastering curiosity and 
resolve to probe this strange secret to the bottom, 
to discover who her real, if false, parents were, and 
to demand the recognition due to her exalted birth. 

To appeal to the Chiappini family, especially to 
her supposed brother Thomas, who had always 
thwarted and opposed her, she knew was useless. 
But she heard that two old servants of the Countess 
Borghi were still alive, and to them and to two 
priests who had been confessors of old Chiappini 
and of the Countess she decided to go for informa- 
tion. One of the priests, in answer to her inquiries, 
declared that he had always thought she was a 
daughter of the Grand Duke of Tuscany ; the 
other was positive that her parents were the Count 
and Countess of Joinville — thus leaving her in a 
greater state of bewilderment than before. 



A ROYAL CHANGELING 177 

Travelling to Faenza she interviewed the two old 
servants of the Borghi household, who at sight of 
her exclaimed, " How like you are to the Countess 
of Joinville." The story they revealed was a strik- 
ing confirmation of that told by Chiappini in his 
last hours. "They had seen the de Joinvilles at 
Modigliana in 1773," they said, ''and the Count, 
who was a handsome man, save that he had an 
eruption on his face, was very intimate with the 
village constable, whose wife, like the Countess, 
was about to become a mother." After telling the 
story of the exchange of infants, they continued, 
''The Count, directly after the event, went secretly 
to Brisighella, but was there recognised and put 
under arrest. The Countess with her infant, the 
boy-changeling, left Modigliana when able to travel, 
and was seen no more. The Borghis, being aware 
of her noble birth, pitied the deserted child in her 
incongruous surroundings and showed her great 
kindness as long as she remained at Modigliana." 

After listening to this circumstantial statement, 
which so strongly supported what she had already 
learnt from Chiappini and the priest. Lady New- 
borough could have little doubt of its truth, or of 
the identity of her father as the Count of Joinville. 
Her next step was to discover who the Count really 
was, and with this object she travelled to the little 
town of Joinville in the Champagne district, where 
she learned that the title de Joinville belonged to 
the family of the Duke of Orleans. But even now 
she was far from suspecting how very exalted her 
origin really was. 

Lady Newborough next made her way to Paris, 
where, if anywhere, she thought she could discover 

M 



178 A ROYAL CHANGELING 

the real identity of this mysterious nobleman, who 
was undoubtedly her father ; and establishing her- 
self in one of the principal hotels she published 
the following advertisement in the leading news- 
papers : — '' If the heir of the Comte de Joinville, 
who travelled and resided in Italy in the year 1773, 

will call at the Hotel de , Rue , he will hear 

of something greatly to his advantage." 

She had not long to wait for an answer : for 
within a few hours of the appearance of the adver- 
tisement a corpulent gentleman on crutches was 
ushered into her presence and announced as 
Monsieur I'Abb^ de St Fare, who introduced 
himself as the envoy of Monseigneur the Duke 
of Orleans. ''His Highness," said the Abbe, ''is 
keenly interested in Madame's advertisement, for 
he is heir to the Count of Joinville." " How so?" 
asked Lady Newborough. " My Lady is probably 
not aware," answered the Abbe, "that his High- 
ness's father, the late Duke of Orleans, was also 
Count of Joinville, and assumed that title when 
travelling in Italy, before the present Duke was 
born." 

Lady Newborough with difficulty concealed her 
delight at hearing this. " Is it," continued the 
Abbe, not observing the effect of his information, 
"some great inheritance that his Highness is en- 
titled to ? " Lady Newborough, expressing a strong 
inclination to smile at such a suggestion coming 
from the agent of the grasping Louis Philippe, 
explained that there was no question of an inherit- 
ance, but that she was anxious to solve the mystery 
of a birth connected with the Count of Joinville's 
visit to Italy in 1773. The effect of this statement 



A ROYAL CHANGELING 179 

on the Abbe was electric and almost ludicrous. 
Rising hastily, purple and embarrassed, he made 
a confused apology for having to leave her lady- 
ship in order to keep an important engagement, 
and with a succession of profound bows, he hobbled 
out of the room. Lady Newborough discovered 
later that the corpulent Abb6 whom she had scared 
away so precipitately was an illegitimate brother of 
the late Duke of Orleans and uncle of the present 
Duke, later to be known as King Louis Philippe. 

Lady Newborough appears to have been rather 
dense in arriving at conclusions : for even after 
this significant interview it does not seem to have 
occurred to her to identify her father, the Count 
of Joinville, with the late Duke of Orleans ; but 
enlightenment was to come very soon after. A few 
days later, in company with her young son by her 
Russian husband, she was visiting the picture 
gallery in the Palais Royal when the boy, point- 
ing to a portrait, exclaimed : " Look, mamma ! 
how like Signor Chiappini ! " Lady Newborough, 
glancing at the picture, was so struck by the strong 
resemblance to her late supposed father that she 
inquired of an official whose portrait it was. " His 
Highness, the Duke of Orleans," was the startling 
answer. Then at last the truth flashed on her 
with irresistible vividness. Her father was none 
other than the late Duke of Orleans : she was thus 
a princess of the blood royal ; while the base-born 
son of the village constable, for whom she had 
been exchanged at birth, was the present Duke, 
and the coming King of France ! 

Here was indeed a dazzling revolution in her 
life. She already knew that she was nobly born ; 



180 A ROYAL CHANGELING 

but in her wildest speculations she had never dreamt 
that she was of royal birth, and, in fact, the first 
lady in all France, Full of her new discovery she 
hastened back to Italy to prosecute further inquiries 
in its light ; and she found abundant evidence to 
confirm her conclusions. 

Old inhabitants of Brisighella recalled the arrest, 
by the order of the Cardinal- Legate, at Ravenna, 
of a French count whose appearance, even to the 
blotchy face, was identical with the description and 
portraits of the Duke of Orleans. Lodovichetti, 
a Ravenna lawyer, told how, when the prisoner was 
brought before the Cardinal, the latter took him 
into his private room, and when he learned who 
he was immediately set him at liberty ; while one 
witness, J. Tondini, declared positively his assurance 
that Maria Stella was the child of Philippe Egalite 
— the Duke. 

Equipped with this evidence Lady Newborough 
appealed to the Court of the Bishop of Faenza for 
a rectification of the baptismal entry in the register 
at Modigliana. The matter was thoroughly inves- 
tigated, with the assistance of counsel, and the 
finding of the court was this : '* It is plainly proved 
that the Comte Louis de Joinville exchanged his 
daughter for the son of Lorenzo Chiappini, and 
that Demoiselle de Joinville was baptised under 
the name of Maria Stella, with the false statement 
that she was the daughter of L. Chiappini and 
his wife." 

This episcopal admission that Lady Newborough 
was in fact the daughter of the Count of Joinville 
was a substantial step towards the establishment 
of her true identity; but it still remained to place 



A ROYAL CHANGELING 181 

beyond all doubt that the Count was none other 
than the Royal Duke, whose eldest living child she 
now considered herself to be ; and the attempts to 
establish this were destined to cloud and embitter 
the remainder of her days. Better a thousand 
times that she had lived and died the daughter 
of the Tuscany constable than to be thus self- 
condemned to prove her royal origin to the 
satisfaction of a sceptical and indifferent world. 

Lady Newborough found no lack of volunteers 
to assist her in her task ; and, as was inevitable 
perhaps, she became the victim of a succession of 
plausible swindlers, who waxed rich on her credu- 
lity. To one of them, a man named Montara, she 
gave ;^300 to lay her claims before Louis XVI IL, 
only to lose sight of both agent and money. To 
another she gave large sums to collect evidence, 
with the same result. She saw his face no more. 
An English refugee, one Driver Cooper, who 
posed as a lawyer and her friend, imposed so 
successfully on her that she made him an annual 
allowance of ;^iooo, more than half her entire 
income, for services which were worse than useless. 

To an article which she inserted in the Geneva 
Gazette describing her parentage and begging for 
evidence to support her claim she received one 
interesting answer. A magistrate, M. Cortilly, 
informed her that he had known L. Chiappini, who 
had confided to him the story of the exchange. 
When Cortilly told him that it was his duty to 
make the matter known, the latter had promised 
to do so before his death — a promise which, as we 
know, he kept. 

For several years Lady Newborough wandered 



182 A ROYAL CHANGELING 

over Europe, seeking, always seeking, someone to 
help her to establish her right to recognition as a 
royal princess ; and everywhere, in Italy, Switzer- 
land, France, she encountered disappointment and 
became the dupe of swindlers. Once she thought 
Fortune meant to be kind at last. A young 
Parisian lawyer, one Alquier Cazem, wrote to in- 
form her that he had made most valuable discoveries 
and that she must come to Paris at once. She 
went, and listened to a remarkable story — how the 
Duke of Orleans wished to come to terms with her ; 
how his mother had, before she died, left a written 
confession of the fraudulent exchange of children ; 
and much more to a similar effect. All that was 
necessary was money to have the matter finally 
arranged. Lady Newborough provided the money, 
9000 francs ; gave all her precious documents into 
the rascal's custody ; and never saw either lawyer 
or documents again. 

And thus for years she pursued this phantom, 
which at times was so tantalisingly near and which 
always eluded her grasp. She squandered money, 
health and peace of mind in the chase ; and tried 
to find solace for her heartbreaking failure in the 
contemplation of the lofty position which was hers 
by right. When at last she despaired of ever 
reaching her goal, she wrote and published a full 
statement of her claim and of the wrongs she had 
suffered, under the title, ^* Maria Stella, or the 
exchange of a girl of the most exalted rank for a 
boy of the lowest condition." The latest reprint 
of this book contained a publisher's preface, from 
which the following is an extract : — 

** The work which we reprint to-day was origin- 



A ROYAL CHANGELING 183 

ally an octavo of 250 pages. There were two edi- 
tions, but it is now impossible to procure a copy. A 
frightful nightmare to Louis Philippe, the memoirs 
of Maria Stella were destroyed in a kind of frenzy 
by the police of the fallen king the very day on 
which they appeared. It would be hard to show 
to the world a dramatic story more curious and 
astonishing to read. Louis Philippe, a child of 
the lowest of the low, is therein unmasked in a 
fashion terrible and complete, but with a calmness 
and dignity which carry conviction. The book is 
written in letters of fire." 

Such was the last fierce, despairing attempt 
Maria Stella made to vindicate her claim to the 
rank of a royal princess ; and, like all her other 
efforts, it resulted in failure, and even in ridicule. 

From this time she appears to have resigned 
herself to the inevitable and inexorable. Nursing 
her grievances, and in vain contemplation of her 
grandeur, she spent the last thirteen years of her 
solitary life in her rooms on the ground floor of the 
Hotel de Bath in the Rue de Rivoli, surrounded by 
portraits of the family of Orleans to whom she bore 
such a strong resemblance. In her windows were 
transparent sketches of herself and of the members 
of the Orleans family so displayed that passers-by 
could note the likeness and pay at least this mute 
tribute to the justice of her pretentions ; while her 
favourite recreation was the feeding of thousands 
of sparrows which flocked daily to her open window 
in homage to the princess of bounty and benevo- 
lence. 

Thus Lady Newborough closed in tragic loneli- 
ness her life of romance, the last years of which 



184 



A ROYAL CHANGELING 



were embittered by an attempt, happily futile, to 
banish her from France. As she lay dying on 
the 28th of December 1843 the booming of the 
cannon which announced the opening of the 
Chambers roused her from her stupor, and, calling 
for a newspaper, she whispered that she wanted to 
know *' what that brigand, Louis Philippe, had 
been saying." These were the last intelligible 
words she uttered. A few hours later her troubled, 
fitful life-dream was over. 

It is not for me to attempt to solve the problem 
which so vexed and clouded Maria Stella's life, and 
which has proved so inscrutable to all later investi- 
gation. It is still as impossible to say that she was 
the daughter of Philippe Egalit6 as that Louis 
Philippe was a peasant's son, raised by a cruel 
fraud to the splendour of a throne. 

That Maria Stella was in fact the daughter of 
the Count and Countess of Joinville cannot, I 
think, be disputed, in face of the abundance of 
evidence which makes this conclusion inevitable. 
She was certainly no child of Chiappini, the 
constable, whose own children bore no resemblance 
whatever to the fair, dainty, aristocratic child whom 
they called sister. On the other hand she was 
strikingly like Madame Adelaide, and the Duke of 
Montpensier, children of the Duke of Orleans, for 
the former of whom she was often mistaken ; while 
her resemblance to the Duke and Duchess, her 
alleged parents, was equally remarkable. 

On the other hand, Louis Philippe, the alleged 
changeling, was a Chiappini, an almost exact re- 
production of the Tuscany constable. In presence, 
manner and speech he was so much the peasant 



A ROYAL CHANGELING 185 

that it was the wonder of Europe how he could 
ever be a king. His boorishness and awkward- 
ness were the ridicule of every Continental court : 
and these characteristics had been even stronger 
in his childhood. Madame de Genlis, who was 
governess to the Duke of Orleans' children, records, 
** It was necessary for me to cure the Duke of 
Valois (afterwards Louis Philippe) of many evil 
forms of speech and of innumerable uncouth ways. 
His two brothers were quite different to him. The 
Duke of Montpensier had a natural elegance in his 
whole form ; and the Count of Beaujolais was 
charming in face, in mind and in character." 

The Count of Joinville's anxiety for a son, 
instead of a daughter, which was responsible for 
the desperate expedient of a change of infants, may 
be explained by the fact that the Countess was very 
delicate, that she was the sole survivor of seven 
children who had died in infancy, and that in the 
event of her death without male issue, the bulk of 
her large fortune would revert to her own family ; 
while light is thrown on the difficulty of exchanging 
Maria Stella, who was born in April 1773, for Louis 
Philippe, who was ostensibly born in the following 
October, by the fact that when the latter was 
brought to the baptismal font those who held him 
declared that he was as heavy as a child of five 
months. 



THE FLIGHT OF AN EMPRESS 

A Prophecy and its Tragic Fulfilment 

One day in the early sixties of last century two 
ladies, thickly veiled and disguised, were ushered 
into the presence of a dervish, at Cairo, famed 
for his skill in revealing the future ; and, to their 
amazement, were greeted with a profound obeisance 
and the words: '* Welcome, thrice welcome to my 
humble dwelling, O Empress." " How do you 
know," demanded the taller and more stately of the 
ladies, annoyed at the discovery of her identity, 
'* that I am an Empress, and who told you that I 
was coming here?" ''The stars and Mahomet 
know everything," the dervish answered. *' I 
knew since you arrived in Egypt that you would 
come to me, and I have waited patiently for you 
every day." 

** It is true," said the lady, " that I am the 
Empress Eugenie, though no one knows it but my 
attendant. Tell me what you can of my future and 
tell me a/l ; tell me truly." The dervish, ignoring 
the jewelled hand held out for his examination, 
looked piteously at the veiled figure of the Empress, 
and, in barely audible tones, addressed her thus : 
" At your birth the stars foretold for you great 
power and greater sorrow, for your happiness will 
only be temporary, but your sorrow will last for 
ever. You are doomed to lose your throne, your 

i86 



THE FLIGHT OF AN EMPRESS 187 

husband and your son, and to wander alone through 
the world like a lost star. These events, however, 
will not happen at once, for the blow would kill 
you. To you, as an Empress, it will not be per- 
mitted to enter the land of your husband or your 
son, except by permission of those you despise. 
You will have to seek a home with strangers, and 
the dress of woe will never leave your form ; your 
jewels will be but tear-drops. I have said." 

Thus was foretold to the awestruck Empress of 
the French, in the very zenith of her beauty, her 
splendour and her power, the tragic destiny that 
was later to eclipse her life, and to leave her 
widowed and desolate, to end her days among 
strangers in a strange land. And it is the dramatic 
story of the first blow that struck her from her 
throne and sent her into exile that I propose to tell. 

• • • • • • •• 

It was early in September 1870 that this blow 
fell. A report had reached Paris that the glory 
of France lay smothered in blood on the fatal 
field of Sedan, that the Emperor was a prisoner, 
MacMahon killed, and the Prince Imperial lost. 
Eugenie refused to believe the terrible news. She 
could not indeed grasp its full horror and signifi- 
cance ; but she knew that God could not be so 
cruel as to overwhelm her and her beloved country 
in such a calamity as this. As she paced feverishly 
up and down her boudoir in the Tuileries — the 
palace which she had entered not so many years 
earlier a radiantly happy bride — a telegram was 
placed in her hands. She read it, and sank back 
with a gasp of horror, half fainting, in her chair. 

This was what she read : 



188 THE FLIGHT OF AN EMPRESS 

** The army is defeated and captive. Having failed 
to meet death in the midst of my soldiers I have 
been forced to surrender myself to save the army. 

— Napoleon." 

This, then, was the end of all her glory, of all 
her dreams of still more splendid triumphs in the 
future. But, paralysing as the blow was, she must 
not forget that if she was a woman, with all a 
woman's weakness, she was also an empress ; she 
must show a brave front to her subjects, though her 
heart was dead within her. *' Keep up your 
courage," she telegraphed to her mother in this 
supreme hour of disaster. " If France wishes to 
defend herself she has the power. I shall do my 
duty. Your unhappy daughter.- — Eugenie." 

She summoned a Cabinet Council to devise 
means of defence, but was met with a polite but 
firm request to resign the throne. ** I accept de- 
position," she proudly answered, "but I refuse to 
be a deserter. Let me at least remain in Paris. I 
care not where I live, or what rank I hold, if only 
I may share the suffering, the peril, the anguish of 
our besieged capital." 

But even this modest request was denied to her. 
As she spoke, Paris was seething with tumult. 
The Legislative Chamber had been raided by a 
mob, its President dragged from his chair, the 
deputies dispersed, and a Republic proclaimed. 
Thousands of infuriated men and women were 
pouring through the streets, — from Montmartre, 
Belleville and Montparnasse — towards the palace, 
in which the hapless Empress was making her last 
stand for her husband and her people. Already 



THE FLIGHT OF AN EMPRESS 189 

the palace was surrounded by them ; and their 
hoarse cries of ** Down with the Spaniard! To 
the guillotine ! Long live the Republic ! " fell on her 
ears. She could see them from where she stood 
— swaying thousands, sweltering in the September 
sun — *' men intoxicated, vociferous, savage ; and 
women, with streaming hair and uplifted arms, 
waving blood-red flags, drawing closer and closer 
to the rails of the palace, towards which they 
turned wild and hungry eyes." 

Still, though death encompassed her, the brave 
woman refused to fly ; and it was only when 
M. Pietri, the Prefect of Police, rushed in crying, 
"We are lost! The crowds are breaking down 
the railings," that at last she yielded. ** I am de- 
termined," she said, ** that not one drop of blood shall 
be shed for me or mine. I will go ; but all of you can 
bear witness that I have done my duty to the last." 

Already the crashing of broken glass, the smash- 
ing of wood, and the hurried tramp of countless 
footsteps announced that the mob had broken into 
the palace. ''Come!" cried Count Metternich, 
''there is barely time to fly" ; and, after a hurried 
farewell to her weeping household, Eugenie took 
the Austrian Ambassador's arm. Followed by 
M. Nigra, the Italian Ambassador, and Madame le 
Breton, one of her ladies, she hastened through the 
palace galleries, with the growing sounds of tumult 
and pursuing footsteps in her ears, until the 
little party emerged on the Place St Germain 
I'Auxerrois. 

So hurried was the Empress's departure that, 
as one of her sobbing maids exclaimed, " she has 
gone with not even a pocket-handkerchief." She 



190 THE FLIGHT OF AN EMPRESS 

had even left behind her the little dressing-bag in 
which she had packed a few simple belongings : 
two nightgowns, two pairs of stockings, four 
handkerchiefs, a pair of boots, two collars and 
two pairs of cuffs, — such as a Parisian maid- 
servant might have taken to her first situation ; 
while of all the contents of her wardrobe, said 
to be worth 4,000,000 francs, not a thing was 
taken. 

When the door of the palace opening on to the 
Place St Germain was reached the sight that met 
the royal fugitive's eyes might well have struck 
terror into the stoutest heart, for the square was 
black with a seething crowd, crying, ** Down with 
the Spaniard ! " '* To the guillotine with the 
Empress ! " But never was heart braver than 
Eugenie's that day. " Do you feel me tremble?" 
she asked her escort. " Not at all," was the reply. 
Scarcely, however, had the words left his lips when 
an urchin, peering up into the veiled face of the 
Empress, exclaimed, with a jubilant shout, Voila 
rinipdratrice ! It was a crucial moment; in a 
second the cry would have been taken up and 
yelled from thousands of throats ; but the Chevalier 
proved equal to the terrible emergency. With 
marvellous presence of mind he gave the gamin a 
resounding box on the ear, and seizing hold of him 
dragged him away, saying angrily, " So, you rascal, 
you would cry ' Vive les Prusses ! ' I will teach 
you a lesson you won't forget in a hurry," and 
giving him a sound shaking he handed him over to 
the mercies of the mob. The danger passed, the 
Empress and her lady, now separated from their 
escort, plunged bravely into the crowd, and, forcing 



THE FLIGHT OF AN EMPRESS 191 

their way through, emerged at last from its fringe, 
to find a cab providentially at hand. 

Jumping into it, they shouted a direction to the 
driver ; and, panting and dishevelled with their 
exertions, were driven rapidly away to the house of 
M. Besson, a Councillor of State, in the Boulevard 
Haussmann, who, they knew, would give them 
shelter. To their dismay they found that the 
Councillor was not at home. Returning to their 
cab they next drove to the house of the Marquis 
de Piennes in the Avenue de Wagram. Again dis- 
comfiture awaited them. The Marquis, too, was 
away from home. 

Their plight was now pitiful. The two friends 
on whose help they had so confidently relied were 
not available. They were compelled to dismiss 
their cabman, as their fare already amounted to 
three francs, all the money they had brought with 
them ; and they found themselves stranded and 
penniless. At any moment they might be recog- 
nised, and that moment would be the last of their 
freedom, and possibly of life itself 

Fortunately at this crucial juncture the Empress 
remembered that a short distance away was the 
house of Dr Evans, the Court Dentist, on whose 
devotion to herself and her family she knew she 
could rely. She would go to him and throw herself 
on his protection ; and with beating hearts she and 
her companion set forth on foot in the direction 
of the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne. Before they 
had gone many steps, however, they heard in the 
distance a tumult of voices and the tramp of 
thousands of feet coming in their direction. Fear 
now lent wings to their feet, but the sounds came 



192 THE FLIGHT OF AN EMPRESS 

nearer and nearer. The crowd was gaining rapidly 
on them. They must conceal themselves until it 
had passed ; and, diving into a dark recess, they 
cowered in fear and trembling. A few moments of 
agonised suspense ; the rabble, shrieking, singing 
and waving red flags swept past, and the sounds 
died away in the distance. 

Once more they were safe — for the time ; and, 
emerging from their hiding-place, they continued 
their journey in safety until they reached Dr 
Evans' door. He was at home, the maid said in 
answer to their inquiry, and the two ladies were 
shown into his consulting-room, where the dentist 
soon joined them, horrified to find his beloved 
Empress in such a pitiful plight, but rejoiced that 
she had come to him in her trouble. His wife was 
away at Deauville (a seaside place in Normandy), 
he said ; but, if the Empress was willing, he would 
do his best to smuggle her out of Paris and escort 
her to Deauville, from which place she might hope 
to find her way across the Channel to England and 
safety. But her Majesty would be wise to spend 
the night under his roof and take the rest she was 
so much in need of. 

Eugenie gladly assented to the project and to the 
offer of hospitality, and it was with renewed strength 
and hopefulness that she and her brave companion 
awoke the following morning to make the journey 
on which their lives depended. 

When the sun rose on Paris that fateful Septem- 
ber morning it was on a city wrapped in seeming 
peace. The streets, which a few hours earlier had 
been thronged with bloodthirsty men and shrieking 
women, were silent and deserted ; but the lion was 



THE FLIGHT OF AN EMPRESS 193 

only slumbering after its orgy — at any moment it 
might awake, and with its awaking renew the terrors 
of the previous day. And it was not only in Paris 
that danger lay ; every yard of the long journey to 
the sea-coast at Deauville was through a country in 
arms against the reigning house and eager to wreak 
its vengeance on any of its hapless members who 
should fall into its hands. And it was with a full 
knowledge of the thousand perils of the way that 
Eugenie and her escort left the dentist's friendly 
house on the journey to the distant Normandy coast. 

What if she were detected at the gate itself and 
not even allowed to leave Paris ? The chance of 
escaping the vigilance of the guard, who knew that 
the Empress was a fugitive, was of the smallest ; 
and as the carriage approached the city wall 
Eugenie's heart almost ceased to beat. **Halt!" 
rang out the summons ; the carriage came to a 
standstill, but before the guard had time to inspect 
its occupants Dr Evans leaned out and explained 
that he was taking a mad patient to the Neuilly 
Asylum and that any excitement would have serious 
consequences. To the unspeakable relief of the 
Empress the explanation was considered satis- 
factory ; the guard drew back and the carriage 
rattled through the gate into the open country, 
while the Empress, the tension removed, burst 
into tears. 

At every inn at which they stopped to change 
horses the faithful dentist contrived to disarm 
suspicion by the same pretext of an insane patient ; 
and at last, after twenty-four hours of suspense too 
painful for words, the carriage drew up at the apart- 
ments of Madame Evans, who gave the Empress 

N 



194 THE FLIGHT OF AN EMPRESS 

the most cordial of welcomes. So far Eugenie's 
star had favoured her above all expectations ; the 
sea, beyond which safety lay, was in sight ; but the 
day of danger was by no means over. News of 
the Empress's escape had already reached Deau- 
ville, where, the previous day, crowds of drunken 
rioters had paraded the streets with cries of ** Long 
live the Republic ! " *' Down with the Empress ! " 
and although at this early hour of the morning all 
was peaceful, at any moment the town might awake 
to fresh scenes of disorder. 

As soon as the Empress had been handed over 
to his wife's custody, Dr Evans proceeded to make 
inquiries as to what vessels were about to leave 
Deauville ; and, as luck would have it, learnt that 
the yacht of a well-known Englishman, Sir John 
Burgoyne, was in the harbour and was to leave 
that day for England. Nothing could be more 
fortunate. He promptly sought an interview with 
Sir John, who, on hearing of the Empress's pre- 
dicament, undertook to take her with him, a pro- 
posal which his lady gladly endorsed. So far, all 
was clear ; but the Empress must not be seen in 
the streets of Deauville in daylight — the danger of 
detection was too great. She must wait until the 
darkness came before she could emerge with safety 
from her hiding-place ; and midnight was the hour 
arranged for her coming on board the Gazelle. 

How prudent this precaution was, was proved 
when, only half-an-hour before midnight, the yacht 
was boarded and thoroughly searched for the fugi- 
tive Empress. The coast was barely clear when 
she and her companion, thickly veiled and cloaked, 
made their appearance on the quay, where they 



^ 



THE FLIGHT OF AN EMPRESS 195 

were met by Sir John and conducted on board. It 
is more easy to imagine than to describe the relief 
of the two ladies at finding themselves thus safe at 
last on an English yacht, under the protection of a 
gallant Englishman, and soothed and ministered to 
by his gracious lady. The past two days had been 
a horrible nightmare to them ; and it is little wonder 
that, in the reaction, as the Empress herself has 
said, they "wept like children, tears of gratitude to 
God for His goodness and of relief from the horrors 
they had passed through." 

But their safety was even yet by no means as 
assured as they imagined in the cosy security of 
the Gazelle s cabin. There was still some time 
to wait for the turn of the tide which was to take 
them out of the harbour ; and meanwhile a storm 
was rising. With the dawn angry clouds were seen 
massed in the sky ; the wind was whistling and 
shrieking around them as if bent on their destruc- 
tion, and outside the harbour the white horses were 
racing viciously. Dare they venture out to sea in 
such a gale ? Even stout Sir John was full of fears. 
It seemed madness to leave the harbour ; and yet 
death was behind — to the ladies to whose safety he 
had pledged himself — as well as before. At any 
cost he would venture ; and the little vessel with its 
precious cargo fared forth on her perilous voyage. 

For eighteen hours the Gazelle was tossed like 
a cork on the wild sea, which threatened at any 
moment to engulf her. So fierce was the storm 
that even the sailors despaired of seeing land 
again ; but through it all there was no stouter heart 
on board than that of the Empress, whose calm 
courage seemed almost contemptuous of this latest 



196 THE FLIGHT OF AN EMPRESS 

peril. Sir John never once left the deck during 
the voyage, and under his skilful handling the 
gallant little Gazelle came safely to her anchorage 
in Ryde harbour as day was breaking on the 8th 
of September 1870. 

At last the Empress had emerged from the dark 
hours of danger and trial, and was safe on English 
soil. After overwhelming her brave rescuer and 
his wife with her gratitude she made her way to 
Portsmouth, and a few hours later, at Hastings, 
was clasping in her arms her beloved boy, the Prince 
Imperial, who had been smuggled out of France in 
the blouse and cap of a peasant, and had, by a 
curious coincidence, reached England on the same 
day as his mother. 



THE SECRET OF THE IRON CHEST 

One day in the year 1778 the whole of Sweden 
abandoned itself to rejoicing. Throughout the 
whole length of the land the church bells clanged 
merrily ; every village had its festival and its flying 
flags ; every town its feasting, its processions and 
its fountains running wine. And well might Sweden 
rejoice and make merry, for had not the Queen at 
last given birth to an heir to the throne, when all 
hope of such a happy event had almost been aban- 
doned, and when the glorious line of the Vasas 
seemed doomed to extinction. 

So great was the King's delight that he summoned 
the Diet to witness his joy, and to ask them, to a 
man, to stand sponsors to the royal infant ; and so 
great was the pleasure of the Parliament that, with- 
out a dissentient voice, they voted 100,000 dollar^ 
as a national gift to the Queen and further large 
sums to defray the expense of the christening and 
the jubilation. And thus, amid the rejoicings of 
the whole nation, was cradled Gustavus Adolphus, 
the most disappointing monarch Sweden ever had, 
and who probably had no more right to his crown 
than the meanest of his subjects. 

Twelve years earlier Gustavus HI., one of the 
most gifted and brilliant of all the Vasas, had led 
to the altar his kinswoman, Sophia Magdalena, 
Princess Royal of Denmark. The bridegroom 
was a handsome and soldierly man, a born king 
197 



198 THE SECRET OF THE IRON CHEST 

of men and of a singular charm ; the bride was 
one of the fairest and most graceful of European 
princesses. The union seemed ideal and full of 
the promise of happiness. 

But no sooner had the words of benediction been 
pronounced than Gustavus in effect renounced his 
bride. She was his wife in name ; but not in reality. 
And thus for years was presented to the world the 
singular spectacle of a king and queen who led 
divided lives and never even met each other except 
when occasions of state made their joint presence 
necessary. What was the cause of this sudden and 
persistent estrangement it is impossible to say. 
Its effects, however, were obvious enough ; the 
nation viewed the situation with alarm and resent- 
ment, for there was but one life, that of his childless 
brother the Duke of Sodermanland, between Gus- 
tavus and the extinction of his house, and it was 
a matter of vital necessity that the Queen should 
provide an heir to the throne. 

Thus for eleven years this foolish couple led 
their separate and estranged lives until an accident, 
trivial in its nature but far-reaching in its results, 
revolutionised them completely. One day in 1777 
a courier arrived in Stockholm bringing letters to 
his royal relatives from the King, who was travelling 
in Finland ; and among these letters was one for 
the Queen and another for his sister-in-law, the 
Duchess of Sodermanland. 

When the Duchess had finished her letter in 
answer to the King's she ran into the Queen's 
apartment to tell her that the courier was ready to 
start on his return journey, and found her Majesty 
in the act of handing her own reply to one of her 



THE SECRET OF THE IRON CHEST 199 

ladies to be copied. ** But why," exclaimed the 
Duchess, **not send it in your own handwriting? 
I am sure Gustavus would much prefer it to a cold 
copy." *' I always have my letters to the King 
copied," was her Majesty's answer. '* He would 
only laugh at my bad Swedish." *' Well, this time 
at any rate," retorted the Duchess, *'the King is 
going to read exactly what you write " ; and play- 
fully snatching the missive from her Majesty's 
hand she ran off with it to the waiting mes- 
senger. 

When the letter reached Gustavus he was de- 
lighted and amazed. All the Queen's previous 
communications had been cold and formal ; this was 
tender and affectionate to such an extent that he ex- 
claimed aloud, ''Why, I really believe the Queen 
loves me after all." It was a revelation to find that 
the wife who had always seemed so indifferent to 
him should thus at once develop into a loving, 
warm-hearted woman ! What could be the reason 
of this sudden and delightful transformation ? 

The explanation was soon forthcoming. Among 
his suite to whom he communicated his pleasure 
was a young noble called Rosenstein who informed 
him that there was a conspiracy among the Queen's 
ladies to keep her estranged from her husband ; 
and that chief among these conspirators was a 
Danish lady in waiting who acted as her Majesty's 
amanuensis, and who, in copying her Majesty's 
letters to the King, eliminated every word of 
affection and made them not only cold but bitter 
and resentful. 

At this discovery Gustavus was furious. He 
returned post-haste to Stockholm, and had the 



200 THE SECKET OF THE IRON CHEST 

matter thoroughly investigated ; he compelled the 
Danish lady to confess the despicable part she had 
played for so long, and then packed her and her 
confederates back to Denmark. After eleven years 
of estrangement and misunderstanding the King 
and Queen were at last reconciled ; from being 
strangers they became lovers, and so great was 
the national delight that a service of thanksgiving 
was held in the church of Riddarholm. A year 
later this new-found happiness was consummated 
by the birth of the son and heir whose com.ing was 
hailed with such manifestations of joy. 

The life of the young heir to the throne of 
Sweden opened full of promise. As a child he 
exhibited an intelligence much beyond his years. 
He was an infant prodigy ; so much so that, as a 
boy of twelve, he turned the tables on his tutors 
and be^an to teach and catechise them. One of 
his professors once humorously remarked to a 
friend, " I have been summoned to wait on the 
Crown Prince to receive a lesson in botany from 
His Royal Highness." Two years later a terrible 
tragedy placed the crown on the head of this 
learned and, it is to be feared, priggish youth. 

The nobles, who had long been chafing under 
the yoke of Gustavus HI., found in a fanatic 
named Ankarstrom a willing tool to rid them of 
their sovereign. At a masked ball in March 
1792 Ankarstrom stole up behind Gustavus, and 
fired into his back a pistol loaded with rusty nails. 
The shot itself would not have proved fatal, but 
the rust of the nails, by setting up blood-poison- 
ing, achieved the assassin's sinister design. 



THE SECRET OF THE IRON CHEST 201 

For several weeks the King lingered in agony 
before merciful death put an end to his sufferings. 
Once only was the Queen permitted to enter the 
death-chamber, and then only for a few moments ; 
while, although the Crown Prince pleaded with 
tears to be allowed to see his father, all his 
requests were refused. When the end drew near 
Gustavus summoned his brother to his presence 
and instructed him to collect certain papers, to 
seal them, and to place them in an iron chest. 

The chest was then locked under the dying 
King's eyes, each of its three locks was sealed 
and the three keys were given into the keeping 
of the King's brother (the Duke of Sodermanland, 
who was appointed Regent), the Archbishop of 
Upsala, and the Chancellor, with instructions that 
the chest should be deposited in the library of 
the University of Upsala, and its contents should 
remain undisturbed for fifty years. 

Under such circumstances of tragedy and mystery 
Gustavus III. drew his last breath. Why had he, 
during his last illness and with death staring him 
in the face, refused to say a word of farewell to 
the son who was to succeed him, and to whom he 
had appeared so devoted ? What were the papers 
which, with such secrecy, he had caused to be 
placed in the iron chest, which was not to be 
opened until that son would in all probability be 
dead ? These are the questions which to this day 
none can answer with certainty ; for the chest was 
not opened at the time stipulated, and still holds 
its secret inviolate within its iron sides. 
• • ■ • • < « 

If Gustavus III. had been an unsatisfactory 



202 THE SECRET OF THE IRON CHEST 

king, his successor proved still more disappoint- 
ing, for he added to his father's faults a good 
many vices peculiarly his own. He insulted and 
estranged his nobles ; disgusted his people by his 
follies and extravagance ; and brought his country 
to the verge of war with almost every nation of 
Europe. People declared he was mad — that he 
had inherited all the insanity that ran in the 
Vasa blood, and certainly his acts lent strong 
support to the suggestion. 

A project to dethrone him and to offer the 
crown to the Duke of Gloucester, George III.s 
half-witted son, only failed because the ministry 
of the time declined the offer. The Duke was 
willing, but the Government was not. And when 
the armies of Russia and Denmark were on the 
point of invading Sweden more drastic measures 
were decided on. One day fifty of his officers 
went to the palace, and after a brief struggle 
with the King disarmed and made a prisoner 
of him. His uncle, the Duke of Sodermanland, 
was appointed Regent ; and after a few months in 
gaol the dethroned Gustavus was ignominiously 
banished from the country to spend the rest of 
his miserable life an outcast and an obscure 
wanderer over Europe. 

What his ultimate fate was no one knows. More 
interesting is the story of his birth, the true secret 
of which still lies hidden in that mysterious chest 
at Upsala. At last there is a prospect of the 
mystery of a century or more being cleared up ; 
and meanwhile we may give the solution offered 
by a manuscript which was written early in the 
last century by a Dane, who had exceptional 



THE SECRET OF THE IRON CHEST 203 

opportunities of learning the secret history of the 
Swedish Court. 

According to this authority the reconciliation 
between Gustavus III. and his wife, which had 
caused so much rejoicing, was a pure fiction 
designed by the King to hoodwink his subjects. 
Gustavus realised that unless he could provide 
an heir to the throne his days as monarch were 
numbered. In order to secure his crown, he 
arranged that his own marriage should be secretly 
annulled, and that the Queen should at the same 
time be married to Count Muncke, one of his 
courtiers, and an intimate friend of his Majesty. 
And thus at the very moment when his subjects 
were offering up thanks to the Almighty for the 
reconciliation of their Sovereign and his consort, 
he was a divorced man and she was actually the 
wife of another, 

A year later this surreptitious union resulted 
in the birth of a child, who, as we have seen, 
was hailed with rejoicing as the heir and successor 
to Gustavus ; and it was this son, who had no drop 
of Gustavus' blood in his veins, who later wore the 
crown of Sweden, only to lose it in disgrace, and 
to spend the rest of his days in obscurity and exile. 

If this story be true, much that is mysterious 
becomes clear. We know why the dying King 
could find no pleasure in looking once more on 
the youth who was to succeed him, and who was 
no son of his ; and we know, too, the motive that 
prompted Gustavus to commit his disgraceful secret 
to the oblivion of the iron chest, which was not to 
be opened until it was too late to remedy the 
wrong he had done to his subjects. 



THE BEAUTIFUL POLE AND THE 

EMPEROR 

It has been said of the first Napoleon that "while 
he could face without a tremor a world in arms, he 
was helpless and undone before the battery of a 
pair of beautiful eyes." He could crush Europe 
remorselessly under his heel, and make powerful 
nations quail and tremble at his coming ; and yet 
his heart was the veriest slave to his passion for 
beauty, and he would pass from dictating terms to 
a conquered nation to the writing of rhapsodies 
such as a lovesick boy might blush to pen. 

Of all the fair ones who, in succession, held 
Napoleon's heart enslaved, probably not one retained 
her empire so long and firmly as Madame Walewska, 
who ruled in spite of herself, and whose virtue was 
the price she paid for her lofty patriotism ; and it is 
the romantic story of this beautiful and unhappy 
woman which I propose to tell, chiefly from secret 
sources brought to light by the painstaking re- 
search of Mr Frederick Masson. 

On the first day of January in the year 1807 the 
small town of Bronia, between Pulstuck and War- 
saw, was crowded with visitors from the Polish 
capital and from all the district around, wrought to 
a high pitch of excitement and feverish anticipation; 
for that day the great Napoleon was to pass through 
Bronia on his way to Warsaw. He had brought 
Austria to her knees ; Russia was cowering beneath 

204 



THE BEAUTIFUL POLE AND THE EMPEROR 205 

his lash ; and he had made his triumphal way 
through Prussia, whose vaunted armies had vanished 
at his approach. By the Poles this man who had 
terrorised Europe was regarded as their saviour, 
the man who was to restore the lost glories of the 
past, and to place them once more among the 
nations of the world. 

When, at last, after hours of waiting, the carriage 
of the great deliverer rattled into Bronia, the pent- 
up enthusiasm burst into thunderous shouts of 
greeting. The crowd swayed and crushed around 
the carriage which held their hero, and thousands 
of arms were raised in welcome or in supplication. 

*' Please let me pass," exclaimed a sweet pleading 
voice from the thickest part of the crowd. *' Let 
me see him, if only for a moment." A way was 
made for the fair suppliant, and a few moments 
later a beautiful girl, her blue eyes aflame and her 
face radiant with enthusiasm, was face to face with 
the hero she had braved so much to see. "Welcome, 
thrice welcome to Poland ! " she cried to Napoleon, 
who took off his hat to his unknown admirer. 
** Nothing we say or do can adequately express our 
attachment to your person, and our delight in seeing 
you in the country which looks to you for deliver- 
ance." With a bow and a smile of pleasure 
Napoleon handed a bouquet to the girl, whose 
beautiful and gracious words had evidently made 
a deep impression on him, and said, " Take it as an 
earnest of my good will. I hope we shall meet 
again at Warsaw, where I may have the pleasure 
of hearing your thanks from those beautiful lips." 
A moment later the carriage rattled off again, the 
Emperor waving his hat in farewell to the cheering 



206 THE BEAUTIFUL POLE AND THE EMPEROR 

multitude and to the lovely girl who had so sweetly 
voiced its sentiments of loyalty and gratitude. 

The fair patriot who had, although she little knew 
it, entered Napoleon's life was Marie Walewska, 
the daughter of an impoverished but once great 
Polish family. One of the six children of a widow, 
she had grown up to lovely girlhood with two 
ruling passions, — the love of God and of her 
oppressed country. Three years before our story 
opens, when she was but a child of fifteen — the 
most beautiful girl in all Poland, with blue eyes, 
a wealth of golden hair, a complexion of dazzling 
fairness and a figure of exquisite grace — she had 
been married to one of the wealthiest and most 
highly born men in Poland, Anastase de Walewice 
Walewska, a man old enough to be her grand- 
father, and a year later had borne a son to him, on 
whom all her passionate love centred. It was for 
his sake, more than her own, that she looked for- 
ward with such passionate longing to the day when 
her beloved Poland should be snatched from under 
the feet of her oppressor and should be a great and 
free nation once more ; and it was for the sake 
of her baby boy that she determined at any cost 
to seek an interview with Napoleon, on whom all 
her hopes, and those of her native land, rested. 
She little dreamt, however, that while pleading 
thus for Poland, she was placing all she held 
dearest in life on the altar of her patriotism. 

When Madame Walewska returned home from 
her adventure at Bronia it was with the resolve 
to keep it secret from her husband and her most 
intimate friends. It was a treasured and sacred 
experience, the memory of which she would lock 



THE BEAUTIFUL POLE AND THE EMPEROR 207 

in her own breast, while she would preserve in 
secret to her last day the bouquet which the great 
Emperor had given her. But Napoleon had other 
designs : he had discovered the identity of the 
beautiful stranger whose face haunted him to the 
exclusion of all other thoughts : and not many 
hours elapsed before Prince Joseph Poniatowski 
called on her to invite her, by Napoleon's orders, 
to attend a ball given in his honour. 

Madame Walewska was overwhelmed with con- 
fusion. Why should the Emperor wish to do her 
this honour, and how had he discovered her? 
** That, Madame," protested the Prince, **is his 
Majesty's affair. I simply obey his instructions 
in requesting your presence at the ball. It may be 
that Heaven has marked you out as the means of 
restoring your country." But to all his pleadings 
Madame turned a deaf ear. She could not and 
would not attend the ball ; and her decision was 
final. Scarcely had Poniatowski returned crest- 
fallen to take her refusal to the Emperor, when one 
after another the greatest men in Poland presented 
themselves to entreat her to humour the Emperor ; 
and when their appeals were endorsed by her hus- 
band's commands, she was at last compelled to yield. 

It was however with trepidation and nervous 
forebodings of she knew not what, that she pre- 
pared for the ordeal. Attired in a simple dress 
of white satin, and with a wreath of foliage in her 
hair as her only ornament, she went to the ball, 
murmurs of admiration following her as she made 
her way through the reception rooms, to be wel- 
comed with smiles and lavish compliments by 
Poniatowski. *^ The Emperor," he said, *^ has been 



208 THE BEAUTIFUL POLE AND THE EMPEROR 

expecting you with the utmost impatience. He is 
overjoyed that you have come ; and he bids me 
to ask your permission to dance with him." *' But 
I do not dance," protested Madame. "I do not 
wish to dance." " But, Madame," continued the 
Prince, " the Emperor will be very angry if you re- 
fuse : the whole success of the ball depends on you." 
" I am very sorry," she answered, with a quiver of 
the lips, "but — but I really cannot — and please ask 
the Emperor to excuse me." 

Butalready Napoleon was approaching to plead his 
own cause ; and before she realised it he was stand- 
ing before her as she sat with pale face and downcast 
eyes, not daring to look up at him. *' White upon 
white is a mistake, Madame," was Napoleon's greet- 
ing in a voice that all could hear. Then, stooping, 
he whispered, " I had hoped for a different reception 

after " She neither smiled nor glanced at him ; 

and a moment later he had passed on. 

It was with a heavy heart that Madame 
Walewska returned home that night. She had 
behaved ill, she knew ; but she could not help 
herself. What did the Emperor mean by these 
attentions to one so relatively obscure as herself? 
She did not know what to think of them ; but 
somehow she was afraid of him and did not want 
to see him again. As such thoughts were passing 
through her brain in the solitude of her bed- 
chamber, a knock came at the door and her maid 
handed her a note which ran thus : 

** I saw none but you, I admired none but you ; 
I desire only you. Answer at once and calm the 
impatient ardour of * N.' " 



THE BEAUTIFUL POLE AND THE EMPEROR 209 

When she had read these passionate words with 
beating heart and flaming cheeks, she crushed the 
note fiercely in her hand, and told the waiting-maid 
that there was *' no answer." Her worst fears were 
confirmed ; the Emperor stood unmasked before 
her, and her anger and indignation that he should 
dare to treat her so found vent in bitter tears. 
When she awoke from her troubled sleep the 
following morning, it was to find her maid standing 
by her bedside with a second note from Napoleon 
which she did not deign to open. Enclosing the 
first note with it, she gave orders that both should 
be returned to the sender. What could she do in 
such a dire dilemma was the question that racked 
her brain. She could not, dared not tell her 
husband ; and she had no other in whom she could 
confide or who could help her. 

Throughout the day a constant succession of 
visitors called, the members of the Government, the 
Grand Marshal Duroc — all the greatest in the land 
— each asking to see her. But to one and all she 
sent the same answer — she was indisposed and 
could not see anyone. Her husband, infuriated at 
such unaccountable conduct, insisted that she should 
see them, and also that she shouldappear at the dinner 
to which Napoleon had invited her. 

She could resist no longer. Overwhelmed by 
arguments and entreaties and even accusations that, 
if she refused the invitation, she would be accounted 
a bad patriot, the poor woman at last gave her con- 
sent and prepared, as bravely as she could, to face 
this second and worse ordeal, of the results of which 
she dreaded even to think. She was given into the 
charge of Prince Poniatowski's mistress, Madame 



210 THE BEAUTIFUL POLE AND THE EMPEROR 

de Vauban, to be instructed in Court etiquette and 
to be advised as to her toilet. To break down 
the last barriers of her opposition a letter was sent 
to her, signed by the foremost men of her nation, 
in which a powerful appeal was made to her love of 
her country. 

One paragraph of this remarkable letter suffici- 
ently indicates its tenor. '' Did Esther, think you, 
give herself to Ahasuerus out of the fulness of her 
love for him ? So great was the terror with which 
he inspired her that she fainted at the sight of him. 
We may, therefore, conclude that affection had but 
little to do with her resolve. She sacrificed her 
own inclinations to the salvation of her country, 
and that salvation it was her glory to achieve. 
May we be enabled to say the same of you, to your 
glory and our own happiness ! " 

** Every force," as Mr Masson says, ** was now 
arrayed against her. Her country, her friends, her 
religion, the Old and New Testament, all conjured 
her to yield, all combined for the overthrow of a 
simple and inexperienced girl of eighteen, who felt 
herself unable to confide in her husband, and had 
neither parents to counsel nor friends to save her." 
While these forces were at work. Napoleon was 
supplementing them by letters of passionate plead- 
ing, such as these : '' Have I displeased you, 
Madame ? I had hoped otherwise. Was it a de- 
lusion on my part ? Your ardour has cooled, while 
mine burns more and more fiercely. You have 
destroyed my peace ! Oh, give some little joy and 
happiness to the poor heart that longs to worship 
you ! " 

As far as the Emperor was concerned, the 



THE BEAUTIFUL POLE AND THE EMPEROR 211 

dinner, to attend which such overwhelming pressure 
had been brought to bear upon Madame Walewska, 
proved less formidable than she had dreaded. On 
her arrival she was overwhelmed with compliments 
and flatteries from those who saw in her the 
saviour of their country, or were anxious to secure 
the favour of one whom the Emperor held in such 
high regard. Napoleon's greeting was, in fact, 
cold and formal. '* I heard Madame Walewska 
was not well. I hope she has recovered," was all 
he said as he bowed over her hand ; but it was 
observed that during the dinner his eyes were 
drawn to her as by a magnet, and that his mind 
was too preoccupied to attend to anyone else. On 
leaving the table, however, he sought her In the 
crowd, pressed her hand passionately and, fixing 
eyes of adoration on her, whispered In her ear, 
** No, no ! with those soft sweet eyes, that gentle 
expression, you cannot be inflexible ; you cannot 
delight in torturing me, unless you are the most 
heartless of coquettes, the cruellest of women." 

When the men had retired, she was carried off 
by Madame de Vauban ; the lady guests crowded 
around her full of flatteries. ''He never even saw 
any of us," they declared; **his eyes were all for 
you. They flashed fire as he looked on you." 
** You have conquered his heart, and you can do 
as you will with him. The salvation of Poland is 
in your keeping." Scorn their flatteries as she 
might, the appeal to her patriotism was stronger 
than even she realised. Could It be that she was 
destined to save her beloved country, the most 
cherished ambition of her life.'* It was a dazzling 
almost irresistible prospect. But at what a cost! 



212 THE BEAUTIFUL POLE AND THE EMPEEOR 

— the cost of all a good woman holds dearest, 
dearer far than life itself! 

While such thoughts as these were filling her 
mind, Duroc entered, and placing a letter from 
his master in her lap began to plead his cause with 
all the eloquence of which he was such a master. 
** Can you," he asked, "repulse him who has never 
brooked a refusal ? Ah, the lustre of his glory is 
dimmed by sorrow which you might brighten, if you 
would, by a few hours of happiness." In this strain 
of appeal to her pity he continued until she burst 
into tears and sobbed as if her heart would break. 

When at last Duroc left her, subdued as he 
thought, she opened the letter which lay on her 
lap and read thus : 

" There are times when all splendours become 
oppressive, as I feel but too deeply at the present 
moment. How can I satisfy the desires of a heart 
that yearns to cast itself at your feet, when its 
impulses are checked at every point by considera- 
tions of the highest moment ? Oh, if you would, 
you alone might overcome the obstacles that keep 
us apart. My friend, Duroc, will make all easy 
for you. Oh ! come, come ! your every wish shall 
be gratified ! Your country will be dearer to me 
when you take pity on my poor heart. *N.'" 

There seemed to be no escape. Napoleon him- 
self endorsed the assurance of her compatriots 
that the fate of Poland depended on her. She 
saw in a moment's ecstatic vision her dear country 
once more reunited, regenerated, free — restored to 
its old-time splendour — and all as a result of her 
own act — her own sacrifice. Ah, that was the 



THE BEAUTIFUL POLE AND THE EMPEROR 213 

word that obscured this dazzling vision and brought 
her back to a cruel realisation of her pitiful plight. 
Could she pay the price, the terrible price that 
was asked of her patriotism ? Must Poland be 
redeemed at the cost of dishonour, her own dis- 
honour ? The struggle was long, agonising ; but 
the barriers of her resistance had been so weakened 
that they could not withstand many more assaults. 
She would meet Napoleon alone. She would tell 
him that she did not, could not, return his love, 
and would plead with him, as a man of honour, 
to spare her and yet save her country. 

The hours that separated her from this dreaded 
interview were spent in silent, ever-increasing 
terror. But the inexorable clock on which her 
eyes were fixed ticked on remorselessly. At half- 
past ten there was a knock ; a cloak was thrown 
round her, a hat with a thick veil was placed on 
her head, and she was led half fainting to the street, 
where a carriage awaited her. She was driven 
through the darkness to a secret entrance to the 
palace ; and was half led, half carried to a door 
which was eagerly thrown open by someone within. 
She was placed in an arm-chair — and found herself 
in Napoleon^s presence. 

Through her streaming eyes she saw the Em- 
peror kneeling at her feet, and soothing, reassuring 
words fell unheard on her ears. A reference to 
her *' old husband, '* however, restored her dazed 
senses ; and springing up in alarm she tried to 
escape, only to be brought back firmly but kindly 
and replaced in the chair. In vain did Napoleon 
press his suit, and seek to remove her objections. 
She could not really love her husband, he said, who 



214 THE BEAUTIFUL POLE AND THE EMPEROR 

was so much older than herself; the union was 
repulsive, opposed to nature and could not be held 
binding. He would give her in its place such love 
as she had never dreamt of, rank and power which 
would place her among the greatest of the earth ; 
and further, for her sake he would restore Poland 
to its old grandeur. 

The hours passed, and she showed no signs of 
yielding — her only answer was tears. At two 
o'clock there was a knock at the door. '' What, 
already ! " Napoleon exclaimed. *' Well, my pretty, 
plaintive dove, go and rest. You must not fear 
the eagle ; the only power he claims over you is 
that of a passionate love, a love that will be satis- 
fied with nothing short of your whole heart. You 
will love him in time, for in all things you shall 
command him; in all things, do you hear?" 
Wrapping her cloak around her he led her to the 
door, vowing, however, that he would not open it 
until she consented to see him the next day — a 
consent which she tearfully gave as the price of 
her escape. 

On the following morning her maid was at her 
bedside with a letter, a bouquet of beautiful flowers, 
and several morocco cases, which, on being opened 
by the maid, revealed diamond ornaments of 
exquisite brilliance and beauty. When Madame 
Walewska saw the gems blazing with the splendour 
of the morning sun, she snatched them from the 
maid's hands and flung them across the room, 
ordering that they should be taken back without 
a moment's delay. The letter, which she read, 
ran thus (I quote Mr Masson) : " Marie, my sweet 
Marie, my first thought is of you, my first desire to 



THE BEAUTIFUL POLE AND THE EMPEROR 215 

see you again. You will come, will you not ? You 
promised. If you fail, the eagle will fly to you 
himself. I shall see you at dinner, my friends tell 
me. Deign to accept this bouquet. Let it be a 
secret link binding us to each other in the midst of 
the crowd. It will enable us to communicate under 
the very eyes of the multitude. When I press my 
hand upon my heart, you will know that it is 
dreaming of you. Touch your bouquet in reply. 
Love me, my Marie, and keep your hand constantly 
on your bouquet." 

Realising that it would be both foolish and futile 
to resist, Madame Walewska attended the dinner, 
but refused to take with her the bouquet which 
Napoleon had designed as '' a secret link" between 
them. He greeted her with a frown of displeasure, 
due no doubt to the absence of the bouquet, and 
throughout the meal seems scarcely to have 
addressed a word to her. He had, however, an 
able and zealous deputy in his Grand Marshal, who 
sat next to Madame, and who pleaded his cause 
more ardently than ever, exacting a promise that 
she would visit Napoleon again that evening. 

It was with a lighter heart this time that Madame 
allowed herself to be conducted to the Emperor's 
presence. He had been gentle and considerate to 
her on her last visit ; she was no longer afraid of 
violence at any rate, and she trusted to his honour 
and to her pleadings for her protection. Napoleon, 
however, was in an unamiable mood at this second 
meeting. '' I had hardly hoped to see you again," 
was his brusque greeting before proceeding to 
demand why she treated him so cruelly. Why had 
she refused his diamonds and his flowers ? Why 



216 THE BEAUTIFUL POLE AND THE EMPEROR 

had she so studiously avoided his eyes during 
dinner? Her continued coldness was an insult 
which he would not brook. 

** But, Madame," he continued, raising his voice 
in anger, *' I would have you know that I mean to 
conquer you. You shall, yes, I repeat it, you 
shall love me. I have restored the name of your 
country. It owes its very existence to me ! I will 
do more than this for it. Look at this watch in 
my hand. Just as I dash it to fragments before 
you, so will I shatter Poland and all your hopes if 
you drive me to desperation by rejecting my heart, 
and refusing me yours." And hurling the watch 
against the opposite wall with terrific force, it was 
shattered to fragments. 

At this terrific outburst of wrath, before which 
the strongest man in Europe might well have 
quailed, Madame Walewska fell senseless on the 
floor ; and when she came to consciousness again 
it was to find Napoleon, the terrible, wiping the 
tears from her eyes with the tenderness of a 
woman. 

The long fight was at last over. Napoleon had 
conquered ; and Madame Walewska resigned her- 
self to her fate, consoling herself as best she could 
with the thought that all she counted dearest in life 
was a sacrifice to Poland's salvation. Day after 
day she visited the Emperor and endured his 
caresses and endearments, her coolness adding fuel 
to the fire that consumed him. Her husband 
abandoned her, but she became the heroine of 
Poland, which counted her lapse from virtue her 
greatest honour. In her, her compatriots saw not 
the frail minister to an Emperor's vice, but the true 



THE BEAUTIFUL POLE AND THE EMPEROR 217 

wife of his heart, who would make him love Poland 
for her sake and restore its vanished greatness. 

No husband, indeed, could have been more 
devoted to his wife than Napoleon to Madame 
Walewska. He was not happy away from her, 
and spent every possible moment in her company. 
She was the most honoured guest at every dinner 
and fete, and his attentions to her fell little short 
of idolatry. But she was not long in realising 
that the sacrifice had been in vain. He was lavish 
of promises, but performance failed ; and even 
promises soon gave way to excuses. '' I love your 
country," he would say, **and I am willing to 
second its efforts and maintain its rights. But — 
my first duty is to France. I cannot shed French 
blood in a foreign cause." And thus she saw that 
the great dream of her life was not destined to be 
realised through her. 

There is little doubt, however, that she had now 
grown to love Napoleon for his own sake. Indeed 
it would have been difficult for any woman to resist 
long such ardour as his. To see the world's 
conqueror at her feet, a humble suppliant for her 
smiles, was to appeal irresistibly to the coldest 
heart of woman, and Madame Walewska was no 
iceberg. ** It is my great privilege," he once said 
to her, '*to lead nations. Once I was an acorn; 
now I am an oak. Yet when I am the oak to all 
others I am proud to become the acorn for you. 
And when we are surrounded by a curious crowd, 
how can I say ' Marie, I love you ! ' Whenever I 
look at you, I die to say it, but I could not whisper 
it in your ear without a loss of dignity." 

Her happiest days were probably those spent at 



218 THE BEAUTIFUL POLE AND THE EMPEROE 

Finckenstein, away from the pomp and glitter of 
the Court. Here she was Napoleon's only com- 
panion ; she had her meals alone with him, spent 
long hours tete-a-tete with him, and grew to love 
the strong man who was glad to be her slave. 
When, however, he asked her to accompany him 
to Paris, she at first declined to go. She fully 
realised then how complete her failure had been ; 
to accompany him to Paris would do nothing to 
advance the cause she had so much at heart. But 
again his pleadings prevailed. " I know," he said, 
"you can live without me. But though you have 
never really given me your heart, you cannot de- 
prive me of a few minutes of happiness each day 
by your side. None but you can give me such 
moments ; and yet " (in a tone of infinite sadness) 
*'men call me the most favoured of human beings." 
To Paris, accordingly, she went, and two years 
later gave birth to a son, whom she called Alexander 
Florian Joseph Colonna Walewska. All the world 
of Paris was eager to pay homage to the Emperor's 
favourite, but Madame Walewska would have none 
of its adulation. She preferred to lead the quiet- 
est of lives in her pretty little house in the Chauss^e 
D'Antin or the Rue du Houssaye, to which Napo- 
leon loved to escape to spend his scanty leisure in 
her company. Every day he sent her some token 
of his love, and ministered to her pleasure in every 
possible way. The rich promise of her girlish 
beauty had been more than realised ; and in the 
brighter life of Paris she discarded her sober 
dresses of grey and black for gayer robes. " Thus," 
says Masson, ''she ordered dresses of lilac silk, of 
white tulle with three rows of acacia, of white 



THE BEAUTIFUL POLE AND THE EMPEROR 219 

tulle powdered with rose petals, or gowns of blue 
and white, her national colours ; a dress of shot 
taffetas, in blue and white ; a dress of blue tulle, 
trimmed with white heather and daisies." 

Thus she remained loyal to Napoleon to the last 
days of his splendour ; and even in his days of 
exile and shattered fortunes she travelled to Elba 
to try to console him. After his banishment to 
St Helena and the death of M. de Walewska she 
found a second husband in General Count d'Ornano, 
a cousin of the Emperor, and a distinguished 
soldier, an alliance, the news of which affected her 
exiled lover deeply. It was a bitter thought to him 
that the woman whom he had loved so long and 
truly should thus fail in loyalty in his hour of 
eclipse. 

But Madame Walewska's new happiness, if 
happiness it was, was short lived. After giving 
birth to a child, she died at Paris one December 
day in 1817, the word '* Napoleon" on her lips. 



A PALACE TRAGEDY 

** He will have a far more turbulent reign than his 
father, will marry a woman from the people and, in 
his twenty-seventh year, will cease to be King, his 
dynasty perishing with him." 

These prophetic words, spoken by an inspired 
peasant long years earlier, probably occurred to many 
as they listened to the jubilant clashing of bells and 
the boom of cannon which, one August day in the 
year 1876, sent the news flying through Belgrade 
that an heir was born to the throne of Servia. And 
seldom has a royal infant been cradled under darker 
auspices ; for Servia at the time was engaged in a 
life-and-death struggle with Turkey, and on distant 
battlefields the joy bells of Belgrade were answered 
by the rattle of muskets and the din of death-dealing 
cannon. At home poverty, discontent and intrigue 
were rampant everywhere ; while the King and 
Queen were quarrelling fiercely over the very cradle 
of their new-born infant. 

But fierce as were the quarrels of Milan and 
Nathalie even at this early stage of their wedded 
life, they were equally devoted to their child 
Alexander, who, indeed, seemed born to win all 
hearts. He inherited much of his mother's beauty 
and winsomeness. Handsome and intelligent 
beyond most children, he grew up wayward and 
self-willed. Of the boy's self-importance some 
amusing stories are told. On one occasion when 

220 



A PALACE TRAGEDY 221 

King Milan was addressing the Shupshtina at some 
length, the little Crown Prince, wearying of his 
father's long-winded oratory, called one of the Court 
officials to him and whispered, ''Tell papa he is 
talking too much and that he must come home at 
once ; I want him." On another occasion, when the 
crowds on the landing-stage at Shabats greeted 
him with wild enthusiasm, he asked an attendant 
why they made such a noise on seeing him. " Be- 
cause they love you," was the answer. "They say 
you love me," he called out to the people in his 
childish voice. " If that is true, prove it to me by 
throwing your hats into the water." In an instant 
hundreds of hats were flung into the air and were 
swept away by the waters of the Save. 

That he could also be as generous as he was 
wilful is proved by the following story. One day 
when he was walking in Belgrade with his tutor 
he passed a bourgeois minister whom he disliked. 
" I am so short-sighted," he said to his companion, 
** that, whenever I see that man, I mistake him for 
a lackey." "You should not say that," answered 
the tutor. "Your Highness should remember that 
he deserves great credit for raising himself from 
the humble position in which he was born, and 
that, moreover, your own ancestors were swineherds 
at one time." Alexander was silent for a few 
moments under the rebuke ; and then, impulsively 
grasping his tutor's hand, he exclaimed, " Forgive 
me. I am sorry I was so unkind." 

Such was Alexander, wayward and winsome, 
autocratic and generous, when his father's abdica- 
tion raised him to the throne of Servia a few weeks 
before he reached his thirteenth birthday. On the 



222 A PALACE TRAGEDY 

evening before Milan's abdication, says Mr Herbert 
Vaughan, Alexander came to say "good-night" as 
usual. His father held him by the hand and looked 
long into his eyes. *' Sasha," he said, " what will 
you do when you are King ? " The boy returned 
his gaze and seemed a little troubled, but made no 
answer. Early next day Milan came into his son's 
room and exclaimed, with an affectation of merri- 
ment, "Good-morning, your Majesty! " Alexander 
returned the greeting solemnly, but without any 
appearance of surprise or emotion. " How did you 
know?" Milan asked sharply. "Who has told 
you that you are now the King?" "No one," 
was the quiet reply ; " but I guessed from your 
question last night that you intended to make me 
King to-day." A few hours later ex-King Milan 
was taking the oath of allegiance to his little son ; 
cannons were booming and the streets of Belgrade 
were full of cries of "Long live Alexander!" in 
greeting to the boy who was thus suddenly and 
dramatically called to reign over them, — none 
dreaming in that hour of general rejoicing of the 
terrible tragedy that was to close his life before 
many years had gone. 

When one considers the conditions under which 
the King had spent his boyhood the wonder is that 
his character was not more ill-regulated than it was. 
His father, who worshipped him, was now an exile 
forbidden to set foot in Servia ; his mother, who 
was also passionately devoted to her son, was not 
allowed to speak to him. "The Regents," we are 
told, " allowed no scope to his affectionate senti- 
ments ; no friends of his own age, no tutor who 
had the qualities requisite to direct his heart or 



A PALACE TRAGEDY 223 

mind. They wanted to bring him up for themselves. 
A man slept on the mat outside his apartments. 
He lay down at eight in the evening and rose at 
five — the same hour as the King. He had orders 
to let nobody in after ten, and to take the name of 
everyone who entered before that hour." 

But although Alexander was thus severed from 
companionship and sympathy, practically a prisoner 
in his own palace, he grew up skilled in many 
accomplishments. He became a fine horseman, 
was as much at home in the water as a fish, excelled 
in athletic games, and did not seem to know what 
fear was. He also developed a sense of duty and a 
resolute will which surprised all who had known 
him as a boy. '' Nathalie's Sasha, whom I often 
meet at Vienna or Wiesbaden," says one who knew 
the King well, '* is a quiet, prematurely grave young 
man who has developed both bodily and mentally 
in a very sudden manner. No one would believe 
that he is only nineteen. His manners are amiable ; 
he meets you half way. He has a friendly shake 
of the hand for those he knows, but what he really 
thinks lies buried deep in his heart, and no one of 
his entourage has been allowed access to this secret 
chamber." 

Alexander had not been long on the throne of 
Servia before he gave a startling evidence of his 
new-born strength of character. He had borne the 
tyranny of his Regents so uncomplainingly that they, 
not unnaturally, regarded him as a mere puppet 
in their hands. How great this tyranny was is 
shown by one phase of it. Although Queen 
Nathalie was in Belgrade, where she made 
her home in a modest house in its main street, 



224 A PALACE TRAGEDY 

Teratsia, she was not permitted even to approach 
the palace, whose gates were closed against her. 
For nine months she never caught a glimpse of her 
son except when he rode or drove past her house 
in the company of his courtiers ; and when she 
ventured to complain of this treatment to Ritisch, 
one of the Regents, she received for answer a letter 
full of the most vulgar abuse. 

One day Alexander invited the Regents and his 
principal ministers to dine at the palace. Half 
way through the meal he rose from the table and, 
in a strong, clear voice, thanked his guests for 
their services to him and requested them to sign 
their acts of abdication. ** From this moment," he 
concluded, " there shall be no will in Servia but 
mine, and my commands must be obeyed. Gentle- 
men, for this night you remain my prisoners." As 
he sat down, the folding-doors were flung open and 
revealed ranks of soldiers with glittering bayonets. 
In vain did the Regents and ministers bluster and 
fume ; refusing to go to the rooms that had been 
prepared for them in the palace, they were locked 
up all night in the dining-room ; and the following 
morning the King's proclamation of his indepen- 
dence was hailed with rejoicing throughout Servia. 
Alexander had at last won his emancipation. 

At the time of her son's coup dUtat Queen 
Nathalie was living quietly at the Villa Sashino 
near Biarritz, and it was while on a visit to her 
that Alexander met and succumbed to the fascina- 
tions of Draga Maschin, one of his mother's at- 
tendants and the most beautiful woman in Servia. 
One day when bathing, so the story goes, the King 
appeared to be in danger of drowning. Draga, 



A PALACE TRAGEDY 225 

who, arrayed in a charming bathing costume, was 
standing on the beach watching the swimmers, saw 
the King's danger and gallantly swam out to his 
rescue, nearly losing her own life in her heroic 
effort to save that of the King. Such an evidence 
of courage and loyalty, especially when allied to so 
much beauty, could scarcely fail to make a deep 
impression on Alexander's heart, and it was not 
long before he was hopelessly in love with the fair 
heroine. 

Draga Maschin, who had come thus dramatically 
into the young King's life, was a widow about nine 
years his senior. With exquisitely cut, delicate 
features, illumined with large dark eyes which 
could melt with tenderness or flash with flame, 
with a brilliant complexion, long and luxuriant 
hair and a figure divinely moulded, Draga was 
one of those women of whom poets rave and 
artists despair — a woman born to conquest and 
the homage of men. Although she was of no 
exalted birth she had good blood in her veins ; 
for she was granddaughter of that Nikola Lunye- 
vitza who was ** adopted brother" and the most 
trusted friend of Prince Milosh Obrenovitch I., 
Alexander's royal predecessor. As a girl she had 
been led to the altar by a Bohemian engineer, a 
man of dissolute life, who, after a few years of 
wedded misery, left her a widow with an income of 
less than three pounds a month. For a time she lived 
in obscure lodgings in Belgrade, where her chief 
pleasure was in attending the weekly meetings of a 
choral society. ** There the future Queen of Servia 
might have been seen seated on a wooden bench 
with the arm of a forester or a tradesman round her 



226 A PALACE TRAGEDY 

waist singing the old melancholy Servian songs." 
It was at this period of her life that Draga, in the 
very prime of her beauty and in her condition of 
pathetic poverty, came under the notice of Nathalie, 
who, fascinated by her charms, chose her as lady 
in waiting, little dreaming of the tragic consequences 
that were to follow the choice. 

The days at Biarritz which followed the romantic 
introduction of Alexander to Draga Maschin were 
days of unclouded happiness for the boy monarch. 
Thrown hourly into the company of this beautiful 
widow, full of sympathy and no doubt exercising 
all her arts of fascination on him, he became a 
slave to her slightest wish. So great her influence 
became that before long ministers began to com- 
plain that the King would do nothing without 
consulting her. If any important question arose at 
a council, he would make an excuse and rush off 
to the telephone to ask her advice, on which alone 
he would act. 

But dazzling as was the prospect which now 
opened before Draga she seemed, for a time at 
least, to shrink from it. When one of her friends, 
a lady in waiting, who had noticed the King's 
infatuation, suggested this prospect of a throne, 
Draga was furious. ** What do you mean," she 
exclaimed, flushing with anger, " by talking such 
nonsense ? What do you take me for ? Of course 
* Sasha ' loves me. I know it, and am proud and 
happy in the knowledge ; and I — I adore him. 
But do not imagine that I shall ever for a 
moment stand between him and his duty. He 
must marry a foreign Princess, who will bring him 
powerful connections and riches, and I am content 



A PALACE TRAGEDY 227 

to sacrifice my own happiness in order to secure 
his." 

These were brave, unselfish words, and doubtless 
Draga meant all she said. But when it becomes 
a duel between love and duty, how often the former 
proves the stronger! And so it was with fair, if 
frail, Draga Maschin. For three long years, it is 
said, she resisted Alexander's solicitations— refused 
point-blank to be his bride, although that meant 
to wear a crown among the queens of the world. 
Curious stories are told of his passion and her 
opposition — how he would spend hours under her 
window imploring her to open the door and let him 
in, if only to lie a while at her feet, and how she 
turned a deaf ear to all his pleading. And there 
were not wanting envious tongues to declare that 
the widow administered love potions to the ** silly 
boy," to strengthen the spell she had cast over 
him. 

For long, Nathalie, the Queen- Mother, was blind 
to her son's infatuation for her pretty dame d'honneur. 
It was only a boy's passing foolishness, she thought, 
and meanwhile Sasha was amusing himself. But 
when one day she discovered a letter full of 
passionate devotion addressed by her son to Draga, 
all the mother in her rose in arms against the 
woman who had stolen away the one heart which 
was left to her. Months earlier a Paris clairvoyante 
had told Nathalie, '' Your Majesty is cherishing in 
your bosom a poisonous snake which one day will 
give you a mortal wound." And now, with this 
tell-tale letter in her hand, she knew how true was 
the clairvoyante's statement, at which she had 
smiled so incredulously at the time. Draga was a 



228 A PALACE TRAGEDY 

dangerous woman, she must go, and within an hour 
she was dismissed from Sashino in disgrace. 

If Nathalie had wished to drive Draga into her 
son's arms she could not have done anything more 
effectual. The moment the King heard of the fate 
of his love he hastened to her side, to comfort and 
console her, and to win her consent, at last, to 
share his life. *' As my wife, and only as my wife," 
he protested to the yielding woman, '' you will be 
safe from such insults. Give me the right to shield 
you, Draga, my beloved, and I will count life itself 
well lost in such happiness." What could Draga do 
but consent ? And from that moment of supreme 
bliss and pregnant doom the fate of both was 
irrevocably sealed. 

In vain did Alexander's ministers protest against 
such a calamitous folly as his proposed marriage to 
Draga. ''There is," he retorted excitedly, "but 
one woman in the whole world for me, one whom I 
love more that all else, much more than my crown. 
She alone can make me forget the bitterness of my 
past and make me happy. And, cost what it may, 
this woman, my good angel, I mean to make my 
wife." And thus it came to pass that Draga, the 
penniless widow of the mining engineer, became 
Queen of Servia, and mistress of her royal consort's 
fate. 

When news of his son's proposed marriage 
reached his father in Paris, Milan was furious. 
** It is fearful — terrible!" he exclaimed in his rage. 
**Who can understand it ? Who could have con- 
ceived it ? The Servians are a contemptible lot if 
they accept that creature for their Queen. And 
this is the act of Sasha — of my own son ! He is a 



A PALACE TRAGEDY 229 

monster — a thing of evil in the eyes of all men. I 
have known always that, should he fall into the 
hands of a bad woman, all was lost. . . . The dyn- 
asty is for ever disgraced ; the Montenegrins and 
Peter Karageorgevitch will dance for joy ; their 
game is played for them. It is all over with the 
Obrenovie ! " 

How true these prophetic words were was proved 
only too soon. Draga's elevation to the throne of 
Servia was the signal for the floodgates of suspi- 
cion, jealousy and hatred to be opened against her. 
She could do nothing right ; her husband's slavish 
devotion was turned into a powerful weapon against 
her ; she became the object of every kind of base 
scandal ; grotesque stories were told of her vanity, 
her superior airs, and her extravagance ; and her 
crowning offence was in failing to provide an heir 
to the throne and in putting forward her own 
brother as heir-apparent. This last unfortunate 
act was, no doubt, the immediate cause of the 
ghastly deed perpetrated at the Castle of Belgrade, 
the news of which sent such a thrill of horror 
through the civilised world. 

The last scene of this royal tragedy opens in 
the early hours of a June day in 1902. Alexander 
and Draga had retired to rest, and in spite of their 
fears (for they had received more than one warning 
of the terrible fate that was hanging over them) 
had fallen asleep. Silence brooded over the palace, 
which was already environed with death ; for the 
conspirators had drawn around it a ring of soldiers, 
so that they might execute their work of assassina- 
tion undisturbed. 



230 A PALACE TRAGEDY 

A number of officers, mad with drink and the 
lust of blood, made their way into the palace 
through a back entrance, the gates of which were 
unlocked by an officer of the guards who had been 
won over ; and, shooting down remorselessly the 
loyal sentinels who tried to bar the way, poured up 
the stairs to the door of the chamber behind which 
the King and Queen, roused from their sleep by 
the shots and commotion, were standing, clinging 
to each other with beating hearts. In vain did 
Captain Kostich of the Royal Bodyguard try to 
restrain the assassins. An axe was called for, and 
heavy blows began to rain on the door which 
separated them from their prey. " Swear that you 
will spare the King's life and I will ask him to 
open to you," at last exclaimed Kostich, realising 
that resistance and pleading were alike hopeless. 
And when a few of the conspirators assented he 
shouted, "Open, Sire, open! Here are your 
officers ; they will do you no harm." Scarcely had 
the words left his lips when the door was opened 
and the murderers found themselves face to face 
with their King and Queen, pale and half clad as 
if they had but just left their bed, but as regally 
calm and dignified as if they were holding a 
reception. 

Leaving the Queen's side Alexander walked 
towards his enemies and in dignified tones asked, 
**What do you want of me at this hour? Is this 
an evidence of your fidelity to your King ? " For 
a few moments the officers stood silent and abashed 
in the presence of their Sovereign and victim. 
Then a lieutenant, more daring than his fellows, 
called out, '* What are you standing gazing at? 



A PALACE TRAGEDY 231 

This is how / show my fidelity " ; and raising his 
revolver he fired point-blank at the King, who fell 
wounded into Draga's arms. 

As if this shot had been the signal, the fiendish 
passions of the officers were let loose. Quick as 
lightning a volley of shots rang out ; the King and 
Queen fell to the floor ; and, as they lay, were 
riddled with a fusillade of bullets. The conspirators 
now drew their swords and slashed at their writh- 
ing victims with fiendish ferocity, mutilating them 
in indescribable ways, and emitting frenzied shouts 
as the work of butchery proceeded. 

** Out of the window with them!" shouted 

Colonel M when at last it seemed impossible 

that the least spark of life could linger. '' To the 
dogs with the carrion ! " Draga's mutilated body 
was first seized and flung out of the window into 
the garden below ; and the group of officers followed 
with Alexander. But there was still life left in 
the King ; as he was raised to the window-ledge 
his fingers convulsively clutched at the framework, 
and only released their hold when an officer's sword 
slashed furiously at them. The body was then 
hurled out amid loud cries of '* Long live King 
Peter ! " '* Long live King Peter ! " thundered back 
the soldiers massed in the palace grounds below, 
and for several minutes the air was rent with cries 
of jubilation over a tragedy which might well have 
made the angels weep. 

For two hours the bodies of the murdered 
Sovereigns lay in the garden, an object of de- 
rision to the soldiery, until the Russian Minister 
Tcharikoff begged the leader of the conspirators 
(who was none other than Colonel Maschin, 



232 A PALACE TKAGEDY 

Draga's brother-in-law) to remove them inside 
the palace, and not leave them in the rain, which 
had now begun to fall heavily, exposed to the public 
gaze. Two bed-sheets were accordingly brought 
and the bodies of Alexander and Draga were carried 
to a room on the ground floor of the palace. 

Meanwhile, within the palace, pandemonium 
reigned. The murderers, having accomplished 
their chief object, were seized with a sort of 
frenzy. '' They screamed," says Chedo Mijatovich, 
** and shouted at the top of their voices, dancing 
and running about the rooms like madmen, firing 
their revolvers at the pictures on the walls, at 
looking-glasses and candelabras ; they broke with 
axes the bedstead of the royal couple, and smashed 
all the fine things on the Queen's toilet-table ; 
called for wine from the King's cellars and the 
trembling servants obeyed their orders." 

But even yet their lust for destruction was not 
sated. Before day dawned several of the late 
King's loyal ministers and officers had been 
treacherously shot in cold blood, including Queen 
Draga's two young brothers, who died side by side, 
facing without a tremor the rifles of their assassins. 
And it was not until the Austro- Hungarian 
Minister threatened that, unless the slaughter 
ceased at once, the Austrian army would occupy 
Belgrade, that this night of horrors came to an end. 

Thus perished in the twenty-seventh year of 
his life, as the peasant prophet had foretold, King 
Alexander of Servia and his beautiful queen, whose 
love, while it had crowned his last years with happi- 
ness, had brought on him and on her the most 
terrible fate that ever closed a dynasty in tragedy. 



THE CARDINAL'S NIECE 

** Do you see those girls?" Madame de Villeroi 
said to Gaston d'Orleans, pointing to a small group 
of bright-eyed, laughing maidens, the centre of an 
admiring crowd of Louis XIV.'s courtiers in the 
Palais Royal. **They are poor enough now ; but 
they will soon have splendid chateaux, large incomes, 
magnificent jewels and perhaps great dignities." 
And seldom has a prophecy been more literally 
fulfilled ; for the girls, whose charm and beauty 
were winning the homage of Louis' proudest 
subjects, were the nieces of Cardinal Mazarin, who 
were destined in the years to come to shine among 
the brightest stars in the social firmament of 
Europe. Three of them were to wear the coronet 
of a duchess ; one, to dazzle the world as Comtesse 
de Soissons ; and the fifth to become the wife of 
Constable Colonna, one of the greatest nobles of 
Italy. 

When Mazarin had established himself on his 
pedestal as the most powerful and wealthy man in 
France, and as the lover (some say the husband) 
of Queen Anne of Austria, he had sent to Italy 
for his five pretty nieces, the daughters of his 
widowed sister, Signora Mancini, to bask in the 
splendour of his protection and, by the alliances he 
would provide for them, to extend his influence 
and strengthen his position. 

As the protdgdes of the all-powerful Cardinal 
233 



234 THE CARDINAL'S NIECE 

they had been received at the French Court with 
open arms ; the Queen herself petted them as if 
they had been her own children ; they were the 
favourite playmates of the young King Louis XIV., 
and his brother the little Due d'Anjou ; and, from 
the most high-placed courtier to the meanest palace 
servant, all conspired to surround them with flattery 
and attentions. 

Beautiful, without exception, as the Cardinal's 
nieces were, the most lovely and winsome of them 
all, by common consent, was Hortense, who quickly 
installed herself as prime favourite with her uncle, 
whom she alone, in all France, could metaphorically 
"twist round her thumb." As a child often her 
letters to the Cardinal display all the arts of a 
born courtier and coquette. 

** I am transported," she writes after she has suc- 
ceeded in wheedling a handsome present out of him, 
*' to find that you have done your little Hortense the 
honour to think of her. Monseigneur de Coutances 
will be able to express to you my joy, and especially 
when he gave me the present on your behalf. I 
believed that it was true what he told me, that you 
always love me a little. It is that which makes me 
pray with all my heart that you may have the kindness 
to continue that favour. May God preserve you in 
health, the while I shall strive to do everything 
possible not to be unworthy of the quality of your 
very humble and obedient niece and servant, who 
loves you with all her heart, 

'' Hortense de Mancini." 

Even at this early age the precocious and fasci- 
nating Hortense was beginning to play havoc with 
men's hearts. Armande de la Porte, only son of 



THE CARDINAL'S NIECE 235 

the Mar^chal de la Meilleraye, fell a hopeless victim 
to the charms of this coquette of ten summers and 
vowed that if he could not marry her he would 
forswear the world and spend the rest of his days in 
a convent. " If I can only marry her," the love- 
sick youth declared, *' I do not care if I die three 
months later." And no doubt he meant it. But 
alas ! for his dreams. The Cardinal frowned on his 
suit and laughed at his protestations. ** I would 
rather give Hortense to a lackey," he declared, 
**than allow him to marry her." 

Even the Duke of Savoy, Charles Emanuel, 
fared no better. He came to Paris to woo no less 
exalted a lady than Mademoiselle, the King's sister, 
but the moment he set eyes on Hortense he had 
not a glance to spare for the princess. He must 
have Hortense or no other ; and his suit might 
have prospered, for even Mazarin could look for 
no more exalted husband for his favourite niece, 
had he not made stipulations to which the Cardinal 
could not consent. Thus early, before even the 
little witch had reached her teens, she had been 
wooed by lovers in whose eyes the fairest and 
noblest young ladies in France might have been 
proud to find favour. 

Even Louis himself and his brother, the Due 
d'Anjou, had neither the power nor the wish to 
resist her charms. She coquetted with both, and 
brought both to her feet, and might, had she so 
desired, have chosen which she would wed ; at least 
until Louis, despairing of winning her, turned for 
consolation to her less beautiful, but more pliant, 
sister Marie. 

As Hortense grew to young womanhood her 



236 THE CARDINAL'S NIECE 

childish promise of a rare beauty was more than ful- 
filled. Her charms, when her beauty was at its zenith, 
have been thus catalogued by Saint- Evremond, one 
of her greatest admirers and her loyal friend to the 
last. ** The colour of her eyes has no name, it 
is neither blue, nor grey, nor altogether black, but 
a combination of all the three ; they have the 
sweetness of blue, the gaiety of grey, and above all, 
the fire of the black. There are none so sweet in 
the world. Her smile would soften the hardest 
heart. Her nose gives a noble and lofty air to her 
whole physiognomy. The tone of her voice is so 
harmonious and agreeable that none can hear her 
speak without being sensibly moved. Her com- 
plexion is so delicately clear that I cannot believe 
that anyone who examined it closely can deny it 
to be whiter than the driven snow. Her hair is 
of a glossy black, whose curls seem to rejoice to 
shade so lovely a head." Such, as far as words 
can convey a picture of a beauty which Saint- 
Evremond himself declared was ''indescribable," 
was Hortense de Mancini in the flower of her early 
womanhood, the most peerless gem of female love- 
liness in Europe. 

Never was maiden more besieged with lovers 
than this supremely beautiful niece of the Cardinal ; 
but though her heart was, no doubt, touched by 
more than one of them, Mazarin was hard to please 
and promptly sent them one and all about their 
business, although among them were two who were 
destined to wear crowns — Pedro H. of Portugal, 
and Charles H. of England. Charles, to whom his 
crown had not yet fallen, saw in Hortense not only 
the hope of winning the most beautiful consort in 



THE CARDINAL'S NIECE 237 

Europe, but the means — since it was an open secret 
that she would inherit the bulk of her uncles 
enormous riches — of replenishing his empty coffers. 
It is, indeed, very possible that Hortense might 
have worn the crown of England's queen had the 
Cardinal foreseen that Charles would so soon come 
to his kingdom, and if he had not been so fearful 
of offending the Government then in power. As 
things were, he preferred to decline the honour 
proposed for his niece. Not many months later, 
when the discarded wooer had recovered his throne, 
Mazarin sent Bartet post-haste to England to offer 
him Hortense as bride and a dowry of 5,000,000 
livres with her ; but the offer came too late. Charles, 
as King, politely declined what, as an exile, he had 
solicited so humbly. 

But Mazarin's days were now drawing to their 
close, and he realised the urgent importance of find- 
ing a husband for his favourite niece, who was to 
inherit most of his wealth. There was no lack of 
choice ; but, for different reasons, one after another 
was dismissed as ineligible, until, by a curious irony 
of fate, he found the list reduced to the Marquis 
Meilleraye, the very man whose suit he had so 
contemptuously rejected a few years earlier, but 
who had still remained loyal to Hortense. On his 
deathbed he consented to the alliance ; persuaded 
the King to create Meilleraye Due de Mazarin; and, 
having thus at last provided his niece with a pro- 
tector, breathed his last. ** In an adjoining room," 
says Hortense, **my brother and sister looked at 
one another, and, for all regret, observed, * God be 
thanked ; he has gone ! ' And to tell the truth, I 
was scarcely more grieved ! " So much for gratitude. 



238 THE CARDINAL'S NIECE 

A few days later, Hortense received from her 
husband-elect **a great cabinet, wherein, among 
other rich gifts, there were ten thousand pistoles in 
gold." A great part of the gold she gave away to 
her brothers and sisters ; the rest she threw out 
of a window of the Palais Mazarin *'to have the 
pleasure of seeing a crowd of servants which was 
in the court scramble and fight for the coins." 

It was a very richly dowered bride that the new- 
fledged Due de Mazarin led to the altar ; for of her 
uncle's vast wealth her share was at least the equi- 
valent of ;!f 5,000,000 in addition to the greater part 
of the Palais Mazarin with its priceless contents ; 
but few brides have ever entered on a less happy 
wedded life. The Due de Mazarin was not only 
one of the most ill-favoured men in France ("he 
bore on his face," says Madame Sevign^, '*the 
justification of his wife's conduct ") but he was 
eccentric to the verge of insanity. He alternated 
between fits of mad jealousy and morbid religious 
fervour. With a hammer in one hand and a paint- 
pot in the other he made a tour of the Mazarin 
galleries, with their costly art treasures, demolishing 
statues and smearing pictures which failed to satisfy 
his ridiculous sense of decency. '* I could not speak 
to a servant," says his Duchesse, "but he was dis- 
missed the next day. I could not receive two visits 
in succession from the same man, but he was 
forbidden the house. If I showed any preference 
for one of my maids, she was at once taken away 
from me ; and I was not allowed to see either his 
relations or my own." By these and a hundred 
other forms of persecution the Due drove his wife 
to the verge of despair within a few months of 



THE CARDINAL'S NIECE 239 

wedding her. His eccentricities and cruelty she bore 
with exemplary patience ; but when, in addition to 
squandering her property with reckless prodigality, 
he seized her jewels, she declined to live another 
day with him, and fled for refuge to the Convent 
of the Filles de Sainte Marie. 

Here Hortense's suppressed spirits quickly re- 
asserted themselves. Among the inmates she dis- 
covered a kindred spirit in Sidone de Lenoncourt, 
whose volatile conduct had furnished her husband 
with a pretext for shutting her up in the convent ; 
and the two captives seem to have led their guar- 
dians a merry dance, playing every conceivable 
kind of practical joke on them. Among their many 
mad escapades they **put ink into the Holy Water 
to bespatter the nuns ; they raced through the 
dormitories with a pack of dogs at their heels, 
scaring their custodians out of their senses ; and 
they deluged the beds of the good sisters with 
cascades of water." In short, they led the poor 
daughters of Sainte Marie such a life that they 
were driven to petition the King for their removal, 
and the incorrigible ladies were promptly trans- 
ferred to the Abbey of Chelles, where they were 
kept in better order. 

But Hortense's high spirits soon rebelled against 
the grim and depressing environment of the abbey ; 
and one dark night, dressing herself in man's 
clothes and accompanied by one of her waiting- 
women, similarly attired, and by an equerry named 
Couberville, she fared forth on horseback, and after 
an adventurous journey across the Alps reached 
Milan, where she found her sister Marie and her 
husband, the Constable Colonna, awaiting her. 



240 THE CARDINAL'S NIECE 

Hortense appears to have been none too pleased 
at this meeting with her sister. She wished to 
escape for a time from the world, and especially 
from her relatives, and with this object shut herself 
up in her apartments, "always en ddshabille but 
always more charming," refusing to see anyone but 
her attendants and Couberville, the companion of 
her flight, for whom she had conceived a violent 
fancy. So infatuated were the Duchesse and the 
equerry with each other that their relations soon 
became the talk of Milan, from which the Duchesse 
was glad to escape, first to the Convent Marzo, and 
later to the Palazzo Mancini. 

While in Milan, Hortense seems to have amused 
herself with a succession of lovers. When Couber- 
ville found it prudent to leave Italy, his place in 
the lady's fickle affections was taken by Jacques 
de Belbceuf, a handsome young Norman, by the 
Marquis del Grello, Comte de Marsan and several 
other gallants, with whom in turn she coquetted, 
and whom she made fiercely jealous of each 
other ; until at last, weary of exile and lovers alike, 
she returned in a penitent mood to France. 
Through the King's good offices, she consented 
to receive a small pension from her husband, on 
condition that she was allowed to live apart from 
him. 

In the following spring, Hortense returned to 
Rome, to find her sister Marie, driven to distrac- 
tion by her husband's coldness and cruelty, on the 
verge of flight. The Constable Colonna's early 
passion for his beautiful wife had been succeeded 
by a distaste amounting to hatred. He disgusted 
her with his amours, and when she ventured to 



THE CARDINAL'S NIECE 241 

protest against his infidelity tried to poison her. 
This crowning injury determined Marie to fly ; she 
appealed for help to Louis, who promised her pass- 
ports and escort as soon as she set foot in France ; 
arranged for a boat to be ready for her at Civita 
Vecchia ; and, inducing her newly arrived sister 
Hortense to accompany her, seized the oppor- 
tunity afforded by her husband's absence to run 
away. 

The coach containing the fugitives and two 
attendants reached Civita Vecchia at nightfall, and 
Palletier, one of the attendants, was despatched to 
the boat, which was to await them at a point four 
miles distant, to announce the coming of the ladies. 
** Meanwhile," says Marie, ''Madame de Mazarin 
and I quitted the coach, penetrated into a very 
thick wood near the sea, and composed ourselves 
to sleep. On awakening towards morning we 
perceived the valet de chambre, who told us that 
he had failed to find the vessel. The horses were 
so tired that they were scarcely able to stand ; so 
we decided to abandon the coach and proceed on 
foot. The heat of the sun, a fast of four-and- 
twenty hours, and the disappointment of hearing 
no news of the vessel threw us into despair." 

But the undaunted ladies, hungry, thirsty and 
weary, and dreading pursuit, tramped steadily on, 
until at last they reached the appointed place, to 
find not one but two vessels awaiting them. No 
sooner, however, had they embarked in the larger of 
the two than its master demanded a much greater 
sum than had been stipulated, threatening to throw 
the ladies overboard unless the money were at once 
forthcoming, a demand they were powerless to resist. 

Q 



242 THE CARDINAL'S NIECE 

Meanwhile Colonna, who had discovered his wife's 
flight, was sending mounted messengers in all 
directions to stop her, while a score of swift galleys 
were taking up the chase on the sea. 

After a perilous voyage of nine days, in which 
their vessel had many narrow escapes of being 
wrecked, the fugitives landed at Ciotat, where they 
mounted horses and, riding hard through the night, 
reached Marseilles. Here their troubles, so far 
from being ended, seemed only to be beginning. 
A messenger sent on in advance to announce their 
coming to Louis was waylaid and left half dead by 
the roadside ; they found themselves surrounded by 
enemies and difficulties of all kinds placed in their 
way by Colonna's emissaries ; and, to crown their 
misfortunes, they learned that a party of soldiers 
was approaching to arrest the Duchesse at the 
bidding of the Due de Mazarin, her husband. 

There was no hope of reaching Paris ; and, in 
her alarm, Hortense left her sister, and made her 
way to Savoy, whose ruler, Charles Emanuel IL, 
had once been her lover, and could at least be 
relied on to offer her an asylum in her extremity. 
Nor was her confidence misplaced. Her former 
lover gave her a cordial welcome, placed one of 
his chateaux at her service, and entertained her 
right royally. Under such agreeable conditions, 
maintaining a semi-royal state, holding her court 
and dispensing smiles and favours to the greatest 
nobles of Savoy, Hortense spent a few happy years 
until, on the Duke's death, his widow sent her an 
intimation that she must look elsewhere for an 
asylum. France was closed to her; Italy she did 
not wish to see again. England remained ; and 



THE CARDINAL'S NIECE 243 

to England the adventurous Duchesse now made 
her way, travelling through Switzerland, Germany 
and Holland, "on horseback and wearing a plumed 
hat and a peruke." 

Charles II. had never forgotten the Cardinal's 
niece, whose charms had won his heart, and might 
have won his hand, in his days of exile ; and it was 
a still more lovely woman who now made her 
appeal to his chivalry — a woman more intoxicatingly 
beautiful than any other who had enslaved his fancy 
or adorned his Court. He received her with open 
arms of welcome, installed her among his sultanas, 
and allowed her a pension of ^4000 a year. 

From being a homeless fugitive Hortense now 
found herself raised to a dizzy pinnacle, with a 
worshipping world at her feet. She was the 
intimate friend of the King — the adoration of his 
courtiers ; while the praises of this new revelation 
of female loveliness were sung from one end of 
England to the other. Waller, the Court poet, lent 
his Muse to swell the chorus : 

" When through the world fair Mazarine had run, 
Bright as her fellow-traveller, the sun ; 
Hither at length the Roman eagle flies, 
As the last triumph of her conquering eyes." 

In the splendour of Hortense' s radiant beauty, 
the charms of the King's favourites, the Duchesses 
of Portsmouth and Cleveland included, paled to 
insignificance ; while her sprightly wit and intelli- 
gence won the homage of the cleverest men in 
England. Saint-Evremond frankly avowed himself 
her slave, and considered it the crowning honour 
of his life to be privileged to see her daily, to act 



244 THE CARDINAL'S NIECE 

as her secretary, her poet and champion ; while 
Charles found his greatest happiness in her com- 
pany. And this infatuation the ill-fated King 
carried to his grave. " I shall never forget," 
writes Evelyn, **the luxury, profaneness and gam- 
bling, and all dissoluteness, and, as it were, total 
forgetfulness of God which this day se'night I was 
witness of. The King sitting and toying with his 
concubines, Portsmouth, Cleveland, Mazarin, etc., 
a French boy singing love-songs in that glorious 
gallery, while about twenty of the great courtiers 
and other dissolute persons were at Basset, round 
a large table, a bank of at least two hundred in 
gold before them. Six days after, all was in the 
dust." 

Hortense appears to have flung herself into 
all the dissipations of Charles' dissolute Court, and 
especially to have developed a mania for gambling. 
To her passion for basset, the favourite card game 
of the time, she sacrificed everything, playing night 
after night until dawn broke, and often winning or 
losing thousands of guineas at a sitting. No 
wonder that she was driven to distraction by her 
creditors, whose importunity was so great that 
she was actually driven to appeal for help to her 
despised husband. The Due refused point-blank 
to assist her, and told her that the best thing she 
could do was to become bankrupt. 

Although at that time Hortense was nearing 
her fortieth year, and was already a grandmother, 
her beauty, which was greater than ever, kept her 
constantly surrounded by lovers ; and among them 
was her own nephew, the Chevalier de Soissons, 
son of her sister Olympe, who conceived a violent 



THE CARDINAL'S NIECE 245 

passion for his beautiful aunt. So infatuated was 
the youth and so distracted by jealousy that he 
challenged his principal rival, Baron de Barrier, 
a Swedish noble, to a duel and wounded him so 
severely that the Baron died a few days later. 
This tragedy horrified Hortense ; for weeks she 
refused to see anyone, shut herself up in her room 
draped in black, and vowed that she would spend 
the rest of her days in a convent. But her grief 
and penitence were, as all Hortense's varied moods, 
short-lived, and she was soon as deep as ever in 
her beloved basset and in the other dissipations of 
the Court. 

But Hortense's adventurous life was now rapidly 
drawing to its close. In her latter years she seems 
to have become a slave to the pleasures of the table. 
She stimulated her flagging energies by copious 
indulgence in brandy, of which it is said she would 
drink a pint at a draught. No constitution, how- 
ever strong, could long withstand such excesses, 
and at fifty-three she drew her last breath at her 
Chelsea house, living for the last week of her life 
entirely on brandy. 

When the Due de Mazarin heard of his wife's 
death he (to quote Saint-Simon) '' caused her body 
to be brought back to France, and marched it 
about with him from place to place. On one 
occasion he deposited it at Notre Dame de Liesse, 
where the worthy inhabitants prayed to it as a 
saint and touched it with their chaplets.'' 



A CROWN LOST FOR LOVE 

In the library of the University of Lund the curious 
may see two bundles of old love letters which are 
among" the most interestinor human documents in 
the world. The paper on which they are written 
is yellow with age and stained with travel ; and the 
ink, in parts almost invisible, is faded to a pale 
brown. But, though the hands which wrote them 
have long crumbled to dust, the words still palpitate 
and burn with the passion that inspired them more 
than two centuries ago. Every page tells in vivid 
characters the story of the alternate rapture and 
despair, passionate devotion and petty jealousy, 
misunderstanding and reconciliation, which held 
two hearts in thrall, and the price of which one 
of the lovers paid with his life, the other with her 
liberty and the loss of a crown. 

Sophie Dorothea, the heroine of one of the most 
romantic and tragic stories in human history, was 
born in the Castle of Celle one September day in 
the year 1666, the daughter of George William, 
Duke of Celle, and his morganatic wife, Eleonore 
d'Olbreuse, the beautiful daughter of a French 
marquis. But though the infant was cradled in 
a royal castle, and had for father the head of the 
great house of Brunswick- Liineburg, her high- 
placed relatives ignored her very existence. Most 
contemptuous of them all was the Duchess Sophia, 

246 



A CROWN LOST FOR LOVE 247 

wife of Ernest Augustus, the Duke of Celle's brother, 
and granddaughter of James I. of England, who 
wrote thus of the child's mother, *'We shall soon 
have to say 'Madame la Duchesse' to this little clot 
of dirt, for is there another name for that mean 
intrigante who comes from nowhere ? " To which 
her niece, Elizabeth Charlotte d'Orleans, answered, 
"Nowhere? My dear aunt, you are mistaken, if 
you will allow me to say so ; she comes from a 
French family, and therefore from a frauds 

But, though the infant Sophie Dorothea had such 
a sorry welcome from her royal kinsfolk, she was 
idolised by her parents and the Court of Celle, a 
homage which excites no wonder when one looks 
at her portrait in the Cumberland Gallery at 
Herrenhausen — that of a singularly lovely child, 
crowned with flowers, whose merry brown eyes 
and sunny face peep out from a huge bundle of 
blossoms she is carrying in her arms. Thus, sur- 
rounded by love and luxury, Sophie grew up to 
beautiful girlhood, ideally happy in her home life 
and adored by her playfellows, among whom was 
the handsome Count Philip von Konigsmarck, 
whose life was, in later years, to be so closely and 
tragically linked with her own. 

When she was a child of ten the Duke of Celle 
had, with the German Emperor's sanction, led his 
morganatic wife to the altar and espoused her with 
much pomp and solemnity before his Court. The 
despised El^onore was now the acknowledged 
consort of the Sovereign of Celle, and her daughter 
was promoted to the rank of a princess by birth 
of Brunswick- Liineburg. And it was thus as a 
princess, dowered with rare beauty and heiress to a 



248 A CROWN LOST FOR LOVE 

large fortune, that Sophie Dorothea reached young 
womanhood. 

Even the haughty Princess Sophia found her 
scorn and malice disarmed by such a transforma- 
tion in the child of a mere ^* nobody." She deigned 
to call her '* niece " and even to consider her claims 
as a possible bride to her own son, George Louis. 
There was, after all, much to be said for such a 
union. The young lady was beautiful and accom- 
plished ; she would be enormously rich ; and, more- 
over, the marriage would unite the principalities 
of Celle and Hanover, to the latter of which the 
Duchess's husband, Ernest Augustus, had now 
succeeded. 

When the autocratic Duchess Sophia once made 
up her mind to anything it was as good as accom- 
plished. Objections were overruled, difficulties 
brushed away, and before Sophie Dorothea had 
any inkling of her fate the match was arranged. 
Mr W. H. Wilkins draws a charming picture of 
the young princess at this crucial period of her life. 
" She was a brunette, with dark brown, almost 
black hair, large velvety eyes, regular features, 
brilliant complexion, and the veriest little rosebud 
of a mouth. Her figure was perfectly proportioned ; 
she had an exquisite neck and bust, and slender 
little hands and feet." She was, moreover, an 
accomplished dancer and musician, and had a 
tongue as clever and a wit as keen as her needle. 
On the other hand the young Prince who had been 
chosen for her husband was a singularly unprepos- 
sessing youth — awkward, sullen and slow of speech, 
of loutish manners and loose morals. 

Seldom has a wooing been so inauspicious. 



A CROWN LOST FOR LOVE 249 

When the Princess learnt the fate that was in store 
for her, she flung herself on her bed in a passion of 
grief; and when her father gave her the Duchess 
Sophia's present, a miniature of George Louis set 
in diamonds, ** she threw it from her with such 
violence that it was shattered against the wall, and 
the precious stones fell all about the room." It 
was only in response to her mother's tears and 
pleadings that at last she consented to see her 
future husband, and when she was presented to 
him she fainted in her mother's arms. Nor were 
the omens more propitious on her wedding day ; 
for, as she stood at the altar, pale and trembling 
by the side of her sullen bridegroom, surrounded 
by all the splendour and pageantry of courts, the 
chapel of the Castle of Celle was plunged in dark- 
ness, and the shrieking of the storm outside 
drowned the voices of priests and choristers. 

If anything more than the coldness and loutish- 
ness of her husband was necessary to crush the joy 
of life out of the girl-bride — she was only sixteen 
on her wedding day — it was provided by the oppres- 
sive atmosphere of the Court of Hanover to which 
she was now transferred. Surrounded by pomp and 
splendour, hedged in on all sides by a rigid etiquette, 
never allowed to leave the palace except in an 
enormous gilt coach, with postillions and running 
footmen, the child-wife sighed for the freedom of 
her old home life, the romps in the castle garden at 
Celle with her playfellows, the pony-races across 
country, and all the simple delights of her girlhood's 
days. More even than this, in a court where 
she looked in vain for a kind word or look, she 
longed for the loving embraces of her mother and 



250 A CROWN LOST FOR LOVE 

the proud smiles of her father. The one consola- 
tion left to her was the companionship of the lady 
in waiting she had brought with her, Fraulein von 
Knesebeck, who was her only link with the happy 
days that were gone for ever. 

As the years passed the Princess's unhappiness 
grew. Her husband's indifference gave place to 
cruelty and brutality. Not content with neglecting 
his wife he flaunted his amours in her face, made 
love under her eyes to the favourite of the hour, 
from Madame Busche to the gigantic, coarse-featured 
von Schulenburg, whom in later years, when he 
was King of England, he made Duchess of Kendal ; 
and when Sophie Dorothea reproached him for his 
infidelity his rage more than once found vent in 
a violent assault. Even the birth of a son, and 
later of a daughter, was powerless to soften his 
heart towards the girl he had vowed to love and 
cherish. 

It is little wonder that the proud spirit of the 
Princess rebelled against such outrages to her 
feelings and against the general atmosphere of 
coldness and suspicion in which her lot was cast. 
She craved for sympathy and affection ; and both 
came to her in a guise as seductive as it was 
dangerous. Sophie Dorothea had been a wife 
for six years when there came to Hanover Count 
Philip Konigsmarck, the friend of her childhood, 
now a strikingly handsome soldierly man of twenty- 
eight, with a reputation for gallantry and reckless 
courage won in half the countries of Europe. 
Witty and accomplished, rich and prodigal in 
hospitality, he soon became a favourite at the 
Hanoverian Court. Duke Ernest made him 



A CROWN LOST FOR LOYE 251 

Colonel of his Guards, a post which gave him 
free access to the palace, and there none wel- 
comed him more cordially than his playfellow of 
ten years earlier, the Princess Sophie, who found 
in him a sympathetic and chivalrous listener to 
the story of her troubles. 

It would be difficult to imagine a situation more 
fraught with danger than that in which these two 
young people now found themselves. In the inti- 
mate confidence of their early meetings, Konigs- 
marck's boyish love for the little Princess revived 
a hundredfold, and rapidly became an absorbing 
passion, on whose tide Sophie Dorothea was swept, 
not unwillingly, away ; and when the Count was 
sent to Morea to fight against the Turks he took 
the Princess's heart with him. It was at this time 
that the correspondence began which ended only 
with Konigsmarck's death, and which tells an 
eloquent story of their ill-fated love. 

^'Oh! how dearly it costs me to love you," the 
Count writes in an early letter. "God knows if 
I shall ever see you again, my life, my goddess ! 
The thought that we may never meet more is 
death to me. I feel ready to plunge a dagger 
into my heart ; but since I must live, I pray that 
it may be always for you." " Do you doubt my 
love?" he writes a few days later. "God be my 
witness, I have never loved as I love you. My 
dejection is wholly the result of absence from 
you. You may not believe it, but on the word 
of a man of honour I am often so overcome that 
I am near swooning away. . . . Were it not for 
your dear letter I should have utterly broken 
down. I am ready to cast at your feet my life, 



252 A CROWN LOST FOR LOVE 

my honour, my future, my fortune. I have for- 
sworn all other women for you ; if you doubt this, 
name anyone you would like me to abandon, and 
I will never speak to her again." 

Such transports as these are alternated with fits 
of jealousy and despondency, as when he writes, '* I 
was ill-pleased with your coldness, and I spent the 
night most miserably. * Alas ! ' I cried, * God burns 
me with sickness and gives me no comfort, for he 
freezes the heart of my divinity, and life is intoler- 
able.' I threw myself on my knees, tears in my 
eyes, and prayed that if it were true that you loved 
me no longer, I might die. I cannot tell you, 
therefore, the joy your letter gave me. I kissed 
it again and again." In a later letter he writes, 
" With what grief I hear that you have been in 
other arms than mine. ... I adore and love you 
to distraction, yet I must not see you. Are there 
any torments like this in hell ? . . . When wilt thou 
have pity ? When shall I overcome thy coldness ? 
Wilt thou ever keep from me the rapture of tasting 
perfect joy ? I seek it in thy arms, and if I may 
not taste it there, I care for naught else." When 
the Princess melts to his pleadings and appoints 
a meeting he writes in an ecstasy, ''The moments 
seem to me centuries ; what would I not give for 
twelve o'clock to strike ! Be sure to have ready 
de Feau de la reine d'Hongrie, for fear my rapture 
may make me swoon away. What ! I shall em- 
brace to-night the loveliest of women. I shall kiss 
her charming mouth. I shall worship her eyes, those 
eyes that enslave me. I shall have the joy of embrac- 
ing her knees ; my tears will chase down her incom- 
parable cheeks. Verily, madame, I shall die of joy!" 



A CROWN LOST FOR LOVE 253 

And the Princess's letters are marked with an 
ardour almost as great as that of her lover, as when 
she writes, " Nothing can make your absence bear- 
able to mCo I am faint with weeping. I hope to 
prove by my life that no woman has ever loved 
man as I love you. Of a truth, dear one, my love 
will only end with my life." When Konigsmarck 
is away on campaign she is distracted by a thousand 
fears. ** If you love me," she pleads, "take care of 
yourself: I should die if any accident happens 
to you. . . . But what joy when I see you again ! 
It will be impossible for me to moderate my trans- 
ports : I fear everybody will see how much I love 
you. It matters little for you are worthy, and I 
can never love you enough." 

** You ask me to reassure you of my love," writes 
Konigsmarck in answer to one of her letters. ** I 
will never forsake you ; so long as a drop of blood 
remains in my veins, so long as I draw breath, my 
heart is wholly yours. You are all my wealth, my 
treasure ; I would sacrifice the world to kiss your 
divine mouth. I hate war and everything that 
takes me from your side. One favour only I ask 
from the gods — that I may be with you always 
in life and in death." 

It was inevitable that this intimacy between the 
Princess and Konigsmarck should attract attention, 
surrounded as they were by watchful and jealous 
eyes. In her alarm Sophie Dorothea begged the 
Count not to seek her again, an appeal to which he 
answered, *' If I must give up seeing you, I will 
give up the world altogether. I cannot describe to 
you the state I have been in for the last four or 
five days ; if grief could kill, I should surely be dead. 



254 A CROWN LOST FOR LOVE 

I no longer sleep, I do not eat at all, and I am 
a prey to gloomy foreboding. It may be that time 
and absence will cure you of your passion ; but 
mine will end only with my life." And later, *' I 
cannot live without you. If death does not decide my 
fate I will never abandon you — not even though I 
were poisoned, massacred, beaten black and blue, 
or burned alive." 

Against the Countess Platen, the Duke of 
Hanover's mistress, whose overtures he had spurned 
and who in revenge tries to sow discord between 
him and the Princess, his anger is furious. *' If I 
were lord of creation," he writes, '* I would offer a 
sacrifice of her, and give her to the bears to eat ; 
lions would suck her devil's blood and tigers tear 
her cowardly heart out. I would spend day and 
night seeking new torments to punish her for her 
black infamy in separating a man, who loves to 
distraction, from the object of his love." 

Many are the stolen meetings between the lovers, 
every sweet moment of which is fraught with danger 
of discovery. " I will look out for you from ten 
o'clock until two o'clock," writes the Princess when 
arranging one of them. "You know the usual 
signal. The door of the palisade is always open. 
Do not forget to give the first signal ; it is you who 
must give it, and I will wait for you under the trees. 
I look forward with rapture to seeing you. If joy 
can kill, it will kill me. You will find me as tender 
as ever — even more so. I shall give you so many 
kisses and with such fondness that you will be sorry 
you ever doubted me." How delightful these secret 
meetings were in spite of their danger is proved 
again and again in Konigsmarck's letters, as when 



A CROWN LOST FOR LOVE 255 

he writes to the Princess, *' I cannot forget those 
delectable moments. What pleasure ! What trans- 
ports ! What rapture we tasted together ! and with 
what grief we parted ! Oh ! that I could live those 
moments over again ! Would that I had died then, 
drinking deep of your sweetness, your exquisite 
tenderness ! What transports of passion were 
ours ! " 

But such happiness as this could not last for ever. 
Both the Princess and the Count had many enemies 
at the Hanoverian Court, who were only biding 
their time to compass the downfall of both, and of 
them all the most bitter and vindictive was the 
Countess Platen. One evening at a masked ball 
given by Konigsmarck, and attended by the Princess 
and other members of the reigning family, the sight 
of a glove which the Princess had inadvertently 
put down at supper suggested to the Countess's 
evil mind an opportunity for revenge. Picking up 
the glove, and concealing it in her dress, she asked 
Konigsmarck to accompany her on a stroll to a far- 
off pavilion in the gardens. Here, to quote Mr 
Wilkins, she plunged into a violent flirtation with 
him, and so engrossed his attention that he did not 
hear footsteps, until two men stood before them 
in the moonlight. They were Count Platen and 
George Louis, the Princess's husband. With a 
stifled cry of alarm the Countess hurried her com- 
panion away, at the same time dropping the tell- 
tale glove, which, as she intended, was picked up 
by the intruders on entering the pavilion, and 
recognised by George Louis as belonging to his 
wife. The Prince was furious. He had long 
suspected the relations between his princess and 



256 A CROWN LOST FOR LOVE 

Konlgsmarck, but here was damning proof of their 
guilt ; for there was no mistaking the tall soldierly- 
figure which he had seen hurrying away in the 
moonlight, in company with a lady whose glove 
betrayed her identity. 

The immediate result of this trap, so craftily 
devised by La Platen, was a fierce quarrel between 
George Louis and his wife, which ended in a 
brutal and cowardly assault. Matters were now 
hastening to a crisis : but the infatuated lovers 
seemed blind to their danger. One July evening 
Konigsmarck received a note from the Princess 
asking him to come to her that night in the Leine 
Schloss, an invitation which he eagerly obeyed. 
He left his house disguised, and wearing a short 
sword, and was admitted to the Princess's apart- 
ments by her lady in waiting. The keen eyes of 
La Platen's agents had watched his going, and 
stealthy steps had tracked him to his destination. 
When the Countess was informed that her quarry- 
was run to earth at last, she wrote the news to the 
Elector, and received his authority to station four 
halberdiers outside the Princess's rooms to arrest 
Konigsmarck as he left them. ''You must take 
him dead or alive," were the instructions she gave 
— little dreaming, or indeed caring, in her mad 
jealousy, how literally they would be executed. 

A few hours later the Count, with a last fond 
embrace, bade the Princess farewell, and with a 
light step, and lighter heart, walked down the dark 
corridor towards the door which had been left 
unbarred for his exit. The door was locked! He 
had barely turned to retrace his steps when, from 
their hiding - place, the four desperadoes sprang 



A CKOWN LOST FOR LOVE 257 

upon him. He was caught like a rat in a trap ; 
but, if he must die, he would at least die like a 
soldier, fighting to the last gasp. Quick as a flash 
he drew his sword. There was a clash and clatter 
of steel, a confused whirl of men, thrusting and 
parrying and panting in a grim life-and-death 
struggle. It was four against one : but that one 
was brave as a lion, and one of the finest swords- 
men in Europe. One of his opponents went down 
pierced to the heart ; another followed ; then 
Konigsmarck's sword snapped in two. A blow on 
the head from a battle-axe and he was down ; a 
thrust of a coward's sword and he was run through 
the body. But, as he fell, he called out, ** Spare 
the Princess ! Spare the innocent Princess ! " 

From the shelter of a doorway La Platen had seen 
her victim fall, and now she comes to gloat over his 
last moments. But though he is dying fast there 
is still life in him. He sees the malignant face of 
the woman bending over him, and with his last 
breath he curses her bitterly, until in her rage she 
puts her foot on his mouth, A few moments later 
Konigsmarck drew his last breath murmuring the 
name of the Princess he had loved so well, at the 
cost of his life. Long before dawn came the 
murdered man had been thrust into a recess, covered 
with quicklime, and the place walled up ; and when 
the first rays of light filtered into the palace 
corridor they disclosed no trace of the foul deed 
which had done a gallant, if indiscreet, lover to 
death. 

It was only after days of agonising suspense that 
the Princess learnt the terrible news of Konigs- 
marck's murder, brutally told to her by the husband 

R 



258 A CROWN LOST FOR LOVE 

of the woman who had compassed it. Her grief 
and despair were pitiful. Some years earlier she 
had written to him, " My life is bound up with 
yours. I would not live a moment if you were to 
be killed. " And now that this terrible thing had 
happened she had only one wish — to end her own 
life and join her dead lover. But too close a 
watch was kept on her ; this last escape from her 
misery was impossible, and she was left to her 
despair. 

• • • • • • •• 

The rest of Sophie Dorothea's pathetic life story 
may be briefly told. After Konigsmarck's death 
his rooms were ransacked and his papers seized — 
papers which revealed only too clearly not only the 
Princess's relations with her lover, but her detesta- 
tion of her husband and of the Hanoverian house 
generally. These convincing proofs of her treachery 
sealed her doom. She was removed to the remote 
village of Ahlden, where she was kept in custody ; 
and a few months later her husband, George Louis, 
procured a divorce from her. From this time the 
Princess was politically dead. ** Her name was 
never mentioned in the Electoral Country of 
Hanover, it was struck out of the Church prayers, 
and expunged from official documents. Thrust out 
from the Hanoverian Court, she found her father's 
Court also closed against her, and she entered on 
a long captivity of thirty-two years — a captivity 
from which death alone was to bring release." 

Over this long life in death in the Schloss 
Ahlden, which she bore with resignation and 
dignity, we must draw the curtain. It is true that 
her captivity was not without its gilding ; she was 



A GROWN LOST FOR LOVE 259 

accorded the title of Duchess of Ahlden, and her 
suite of attendants, and her military escort, and 
held her small court : but these trappings only- 
emphasised her isolation from the world in which 
she was entitled to play so conspicuous a part. 
Even her mother was not allowed to see her, 
and this was the bitterest drop in her cup of 
punishment. 

In 1 7 14 her husband, on the death of Queen 
Anne, was promoted as George I. to the British 
throne, and the lonely prisoner in the Castle of 
Ahlden learnt without a sigh of the splendid 
heritage which should have been hers as Queen 
of England. All she now asked of life was her 
liberty, and this was denied her. Thirteen years 
later the end of Sophie Dorothea's troubled life 
came. The coffin which held her remains was 
ignominiously thrust into a cellar of the castle and 
covered with sand, to await the orders of her 
husband the King : and when these orders at last 
arrived it was taken at dead of night, placed on 
a cart and conveyed to the Church of Celle where, 
without a prayer spoken over it, it was placed in 
the vault under the chancel. 

A month later George I. set out from England 
to Hanover. He had reached the frontier of 
Holland when at midnight a letter was thrown 
through his carriage window and fell on his knees. 
It was from his dead wife, who, after upbraiding 
him for his cruelty, summoned him to meet her 
within a year and a day before the throne of God 
to answer for the wrong he had done her. As 
George read this ominous message from the dead, 
the letter dropped from his hands and he fell 



260 A CROWN LOST FOR LOVE 

forward in a fit. A few hours later he had gone 
to meet his wife before the Great Tribunal, draw- 
ing his last breath, where he had drawn his first, 
in the Palace of Osnabriick, sixty-seven years 
before. 



THE MYSTERIOUS LADY OF 
VERSAILLES 

One May day, in the year 1858, a curious, excited 
crowd was gathered in front of No. 11 Rue du 
Marche Neuf, in the St Louis quarter of Versailles, 
reading the contents of a bill which announced the 
sale of the effects of the man who during his life- 
time was known as Mademoiselle Henriette Jenny 
Savalette de Langes, and laughing uproariously 
over the list of goods to be sold, which included 
"numerous articles of woman's attire, including 
thirty dresses, mostly of silk, etc." 

If a thunderbolt had fallen on Versailles its inhabi- 
tants could scarcely have been more startled than 
by the revelation that Mademoiselle de Langes was 
a man. There had been no figure in Versailles more 
familiar than that of Mademoiselle — the tall, gaunt, 
angular old lady, with her long face framed in the 
black ruches of her bonnet, who was to be seen 
every day on her shopping excursions or walking 
the streets, usually with a troop of small boys 
shouting at her heels. A grim, taciturn, shabby 
creature who lived her life apart from them all, 
and yet carrying herself with a certain dignity 
which kept the curious and impertinent at a dis- 
tance. 

Who could she be, this solitary woman who 
stalked daily among them, seeing none and heed- 
ing none, was a question which had passed from 
261 



262 THE MYSTERIOUS LADY OF VERSAILLES 

lips to lips for years and which none could answer. 
It was known that she had many friends in the 
highest quarters ; and had she not occupied an 
apartment in the Chateau de Versailles ? — evidence, 
surely, that she was a woman of some importance. 

And now that she was dead, the mystery of her 
life was dramatically deepened. Mademoiselle de 
Langes was a man, who all these years had 
masqueraded, and with such conspicuous success, 
as a woman. Here was fine food for gossip and 
speculation. Perhaps the mysterious lady was none 
other than the Dauphin who, long years before, 
had been smuggled from his Temple prison and had 
vanished, none knew where. Could it be possible 
that Mademoiselle was Louis XVIL, the right- 
ful King of France ? She was certainly about the 
age he would have been if he had lived, and — yes, 
now they remembered — she bore a certain likeness 
to the Dauphin's father, Louis XVI., the murdered 
King. The suggestion flew from mouth to mouth 
until all Versailles was convinced that the lady of 
mystery was the missing Dauphin, who had lived 
a sordid and miserable life among them while 
another sat on his throne. 

But this was by no means the tale ''Mademoi- 
selle " had told of herself. Fifty years earlier she 
had made her first appearance in Paris, claiming to 
be the daughter of M. Savalette de Langes, who 
had been Keeper of the Royal Treasury to Louis 
XV. Her father, she declared, ruined himself by 
lending 5,000,000 francs to the Comte d'Artois, 
and had died a beggar, leaving his daughter to 
the mercy of the world. At the restoration she 
received a tardy reward for her father's loyalty in 



THE MYSTERIOUS LADY OF VERSAILLES 263 

the form of two small pensions and the control of 
the Villejuif post office, which made a small addi- 
tion to her income ; and, later, an apartment in 
the Palace of Versailles was given to her — a poor 
return enough for the loss of millions of francs, but 
still better than nothing. 

Nor was this all. Many of the greatest men 
and women in France took pity on poor Demoiselle 
de Langes, and not only supplied her wants but 
admitted her to intimate friendship. Her ward- 
robe was kept replenished by the Duchesse de 
la Rochefoucauld, Marechale Macdonald and other 
ladies of high degree ; while the Due de Luynes, 
Queen Amelia, and Prince Louis Napoleon also 
took her under their wing, and saw that she did 
not lack more material comforts. 

And yet Mademoiselle was not happy. She 
seemed to be pursued by a demon of unrest, 
which would not allow her to remain long in one 
place. From one apartment to another, in Paris 
and Versailles, she was constantly moving, until 
the number of her changed addresses ran into 
hundreds ; and always she was the same mysteri- 
ous woman, leading a life apart from the people 
among whom she moved. There must, however, 
have been some fascination about her, for she 
had at least two love affairs of which the records 
survive ; and once at least she was on the very 
eve of marriage. One of her wooers was a 
Government clerk ; the second was an army 
officer, one Major Lacipiere, who was loyal to 
her for sixteen years, and is said to have died 
of a broken heart when his engagement ended. 

Mademoiselle seems to have led the Major an 



264 THE MYSTERIOUS LADY OF VERSAILLES 

unhappy life by her capricious moods, if one may 
judge from his letters. Thus, in 1831, when his 
lady-love must have been far advanced in the 
forties, he writes: **Time has made no change in 
my feelings towards you, feelings which you have 
inspired in my breast for many years past. . . . 
And yet you delight in heaping threats, reproaches 
and insults on me. In spite of this I am ready 
to do anything you require." Eight years later, 
the disillusioned lover unburdened himself thus, 
" I am resigned to all your persecutions, for you 
seem to me to be implacable. Every day I shed 
bitter tears through having known you. I curse 
the day on which we met." 

But that Mademoiselle was able to inspire a 
real passion is proved by the letters of another 
wooer who writes thus ardently: '* I dared not 
bring your veil myself, but I hoped to return it 
this morning. I am very grieved to have kept 
you waiting for it ; it returns to its mistress with 
a thousand kisses which I almost thought I was 
giving to the one I love." A little later the same 
lover writes : " How can I arrange to see you 
this evening? There is a simple way of writing 
to me from where you are — fasten a little stone 
to your letter and throw it over the trellis- 
work. ... If, when I return at nine o'clock, you 
are at home, I will stand at my window and we 
can meet at your post. I will make a sign that 
I am going out, and you will also leave the house. 
A few notes on my violin will be the signal." 
Such was the wooing of Mademoiselle in the days 
of her youth, when, in spite of her sex, she was 
able to inspire in at least one lover a passion 



THE MYSTERIOUS LADY OF VERSAILLES 265 

which seems to have been as sincere as it was 
romantic. 

Thus for half-a-century Mademoiselle de Langes 
led her mysterious life, playing the role of woman 
so successfully that none ever doubted her sex, 
gaining Government pensions by fraudulent pre- 
tences and under a false name, and finding her 
dupes in the most exalted circles of France. When 
her last illness seized her in the Rue du March^ 
Neuf she was nursed by two kind neighbours, who, 
entering her room one morning, found her lying 
dead at the foot of her bed. A doctor was hastily 
summoned and, while he was writing the burial 
certificate, the neighbours prepared to lay out the 
corpse. Suddenly, they uttered a cry. They had 
made the discovery that the deceased was a man. 
Two days later '' Mademoiselle " was buried by the 
state, in the cemetery of Saint Louis, at a cost of 
two francs fifty centimes. 

When the mean apartments occupied by Savalette 
in the Rue du Marche Neuf were examined after 
his death they revealed surely the most remarkable 
collection of goods and chattels ever brought to- 
gether by a human being. Empire arm-chairs and 
Louis Seize bergeres rubbed shoulders with broken 
tables, legless stools and saucepans. Silk dresses 
were scattered everywhere in profusion among a 
litter of broken crockery, flat-irons, empty bottles 
and staved-in casks. There were scores of skirts, 
of every colour of the rainbow, tattered sunshades, 
hats and bonnets, bolsters and picture frames, a 
plaster-mask, a bouquet of flowers in a wooden 
frame and a pewter syringe. 

In a mahogany desk were found a magnificent 



266 THE MYSTERIOUS LADY OF VERSAILLES 

Louis XIV. quilt, among shreds of stuff and pieces 
of costly silk ; and banknotes to the value of 
21,000 francs. A dilapidated trunk disclosed a 
number of dresses of violet moir^ and nearly 
9000 francs in gold ; while a small box contained 
Government stock worth many thousands of francs. 
Curiously enough, as M. Lenotre, to whose fascinat- 
ing pages I am greatly indebted for this story, says, 
** there is no mention in the inventory of razors ! " 

Nor was there found among this heterogeneous 
collection any clue to the identity of its late owner, 
who had evidently taken every precaution to carry 
his secret with him to the grave. The only ap- 
proach to a clue was contained in the following 
lines scribbled on a scrap of paper, apparently in 
a black and desperate mood : — 

"The day has now come when I am going to 
tear away the veil which conceals your terrible sins. 
Tremble, eternal sinner, lest I reveal to the world, 
which is seeking for you, the detestable monster 
you are. Do you not see that all around you are be- 
ginning to guess the secret of your hypocrisy ? . . . 
You are horribly disgusting ; the filth that covers 
your loathsome body will cause it to fall into 
shreds ; I advise you, therefore, to cleanse your- 
self. . . . Farewell, old monster, whom demons 
vomited on to the earth — go back to Orleans to 
sell your cheeses and salads. Again farewell, old 
Michel ! " 

In these mad ravings surely there must be some 
clue to the secret of Savalette's past. Was his 
former name, as is suggested, *' Michel," who had 
sold cheeses and salads at Orleans ? Or was the 
diatribe directed against some unknown person 



THE MYSTERIOUS LADY OF VERSAILLES 267 

whose enemy he was ? For more than forty years 
the secret of the man-woman's identity remained 
hidden, the subject of much speculation. Some, it 
is said, lived and died in the belief that he was 
none other than the Dauphin of France ; others 
declared that in his young days he had probably 
murdered Savalette's daughter, whose identity he 
then assumed in the hope of establishing his claim 
to the 5,000,000 francs lent by the Keeper of the 
Royal Treasury to the Comte d'Artois. But none 
knew the truth, until M. Lenotre s patient investiga- 
tions at last brought it to light a few years ago. 
And the story he tells is at least as strange as the 
previously ascertained history of the mysterious 
*' lady " of Versailles. 

• • • • • • • 

According to M. Lenotre there was living in 
Paris at the outbreak of the French Revolution a 
M. Savalette de Langes, brother, or at least a near 
kinsman, of de Langes, the Keeper of the Royal 
Treasury, who had ruined himself by lending 
several millions of francs to the brother of Louis 
XVL He was a widower with an only daughter, 
named Jenny, a beautiful girl who had just entered 
her teens ; and when the Reign of Terror began 
in Paris he was among the first to seek safety in 
flight. Accompanied by his daughter, he left Paris 
on his way to the Breton coast, whence he hoped to 
make his way to England until the storm blew over 
and he was able to return to his native land. At 
one of the stopping-places on his journey (probably 
at Orleans, says M. Lenotre) he made the acquaint- 
ance of a young man, of smart appearance and 
plausible tongue, who gallantly offered to act as his 



268 THE MYSTERIOUS LADY OF VERSAILLES 

guide to the coast of Brittany, knowing, as he 
professed, every inch of the road. This offer M. de 
Langes gratefully accepted, and for the remainder 
of the journey he found the polite stranger not only 
a reliable guide but an entertaining companion. 

Arrived at St Malo, M. de Langes found the 
town crowded with foreigners, all, like himself, 
anxious to cross the sea ; and among them was the 

young daughter of the Marquis de T , whom her 

father had sent to seek safety in England, under 
the charge of an old retainer of the family, intending 
to follow her later. Between the two girls, the 
daughter of M. de Langes and Mademoiselle Jeanne 

Fran9oise de T , a sudden friendship sprang up, 

and when Mademoiselle Jenny begged her father to 
allow her new friend to accompany them on their 
journey, M. de Langes gladly gave consent. 
Passages were secured on a vessel, ostensibly bound 
for Plymouth ; and to this destination the five fugitives 
(for the plausible stranger, whom M. Lenotre calls 

B , had decided to go with them) set sail 

from St Malo. 

But they were not destined to see even the coast 
of Enofland ; for when the vessel had been two 
days at sea the captain informed his passengers 
that, for certain good reasons, he dared not land 
in England, and that he intended to take them to 
Hamburg. In vain the fugitives protested against 
this breach of faith. The capt? in was adamant ; 
he was going to Hamburg and they were bound to 
go with him ; and, accordingly, at Hamburg they 
were landed in due course, where they established 
themselves as best they could. Here, one calamity 
after another befell the small party. The old 



THE MYSTERIOUS LADY OF VERSAILLES 269 

Breton servant was seized with a fatal illness and 
died three days after landing. A few weeks later 
they were attacked by typhus fever, to which first 
M. de Langes succumbed and then his daughter 
— the latter exclaiming, as she lay dying, to her 
friend Jeanne Fran9oise, " Do not forget that the 
Comte d'Artois has left me to die in poverty, and 
that he owes my family five millions ! " 

There now only remained two survivors of the 

party — the Marquis de T s young daughter, 

Jeanne Frangoise, and M. B , who now found 

themselves reduced to such financial straits that 
they were compelled to live in a cellar and to sleep 
on heaps of rags. Jeanne Fran^oise had sent 
many appealing letters to her parents, to none of 
which she had received any reply ; and, in her 
extremity, deserted, as she thought, by her family, 
she yielded to the solicitations of her companion 
— the only friend she had left in the world — and 
consented to live with him as his mistress. 

Meanwhile B , who appears to have been 

an unscrupulous rascal, had formulated a scheme 
for recovering a part at least of the de Langes 
millions. He wrote letter after letter to the Comte 
d'Artois signed with the name of the dead Jenny 
de Langes and purporting to come from the 
daughter of the Comte's creditor, the Keeper of 
the Treasury — but to no purpose. The letters 
either never reached their destination, or were 
Ignored by the prince. 

Thus a few years passed — years of terrible un- 
happiness for Jeanne Fran9oise, forsaken by the 
world and condemned to a life of poverty and 
infamy with a man whose character filled her with 



270 THE MYSTERIOUS LADY OF VERSAILLES 

disgust. But with the close of the Revolution 
came emancipation — an emancipation which she 
now dreaded as much as she had once longed for 
it, for she was horrified at the thought that her 
family might learn the life which circumstances had 
compelled her to lead. After a long and fruitless 
search her parents discovered the whereabouts of 
their long-lost daughter, and sent a messenger to 
convey her back to her home in Brittany — the 

rascally B prudently disappearing before the 

messenger's arrival. 

Jeanne Fran^oise now found herself restored to 
the comforts and splendours of her former life. 
The past few years were but a hideous nightmare 
— their only legacy, the guilty secret she carried in 
her breast, fearing lest any day it might leap to 
light. But, as the years passed, the memory and 
the danger became fainter, and when the Comte 

de S R came a-wooing she consented to 

become his wife, secure, as she thought, from any 
discovery of the hideous secret of her past life. 

And, as the Comtesse de S R , Jeanne 

Fran9oise became one of the chief ornaments of 
the Bourbon Court, the intimate friend of royalties, 
with a reputation as much for her saintly life as for 
her beauty and personal charm. 

One day, in 1815, a strange woman presented 

herself at her mansion in the Rue de la P , and 

asked to see the Comtesse, who gave orders that 
the visitor should be shown in. A tall, thin woman 
with a circular border of hair and ample bonnet- 
strings was ushered into the drawing-room, and 
when the servant had retired raised her veil and 
asked the Comtesse, ** Do you recognise me ? " 



THE MYSTERIOUS LADY OF VERSAILLES 271 

At the sight of the face thus revealed Madame 
de S R recoiled with horror, for she re- 
cognised instantly the man who was associated with 
the terrible past which she had long thought dead 

beyond recalling. It was B , the man who had 

ruined her life, the sharer of the dreadful secret the 
disclosure of which meant something far worse than 
death. ** Ah ! " he exclaimed with a leer of triumph, 
** I see you recognise your old friend — Jenny Sava- 
lette de Langes. That is good. Now we can talk 
business." Then he proceeded to unfold his plans 
to the half-fainting, awestruck Comtesse. Briefly 
they were these — he had decided to personate 
the dead Jenny de Langes, and in the character 
of the daughter of the man who had lent the 
Comte d'Artois 5,000,000 francs, to prosecute his 
claim for a return of the borrowed money. In 
order to accomplish this he must be identified and 
have the support of someone of position at the 
Court ; and no one could answer this purpose so 
well as madame. If she consented, nothing would 
be said about the little episode at Hamburg. If 
not — well, madame was the best judge. 

What could the Comtesse do ^, On the one side 
she was threatened with an exposure which would 
wreck her life and the happiness of all dear to her 
— on the other, she must consent to become the 
tool of an unscrupulous miscreant. She chose the 
latter alternative ; and Mademoiselle Jenny thus had 
a powerful friend to assist her in '* establishing her 
rights " to the lost de Langes millions. 

The Comtesse discharged her part of the contract 
with the utmost loyalty. She introduced ** Made- 
moiselle de Langes " to her exalted friends, even to 



272 THE MYSTERIOUS LADY OF VERSAILLES 

royalty itself, praised her virtues, evoked pity 
for her sufferings and supported her preposterous 
claims to the best of her ability. She secured for 
her pensions from the Government and other valu- 
able concessions, including a suite of apartments at 
the Chateau of Versailles ; but of the de Langes 
millions, even the Comtesse could not help him to 
recover a solitary franc. What she suffered, while 
playing this discreditable role, and what hourly 
torture she endured from fear lest her former lover, 
disappointed at her lack of success, should turn 
traitor and reveal her secret after all, may be left 
to the imagination. Even the horrors of her 
Hamburg life were as nothing compared with 
the agonies of mind she must have endured dur- 
ing this terrible time. 

To Mademoiselle Jenny s credit it must be said 
that she too was loyal to her undertaking. She 
not only kept the Comtesse's secret inviolate, but 
assisted her by the skill with which she assumed 
her fraudulent character. She played the part of 
woman — an injured and long-suffering woman — to 
perfection. She developed skill in many female 
arts, such as lacework, embroidery and cooking. 
She flirted and coquetted with the men ; and 
wormed herself into the favour of great ladies by 
her amiability and her patience under a great 
wrong. 

But such a condition of things could not last 
indefinitely. The Comtesse, at last made desperate 
by the deceitful dual life she was compelled to lead, 
is supposed to have taken her husband into her 
confidence — to have told him of the discreditable 
episode in her past life and to have thrown herself 



THE MYSTERIOUS LADY OF VERSAILLES 273 

on his mercy. However this may have been, there 
seems no doubt that in some way she was able to 
break free from the galHng fetters which bound 
her to her old lover. Not only her own door, but, 
one by one, the doors of her friends were gradually 
closed against him. 

Baffled and outwitted he recognised that his 
game was played out, and resigned himself to the 
inevitable. His power to injure the Comtesse was 
gone, and he was in danger of being handed over 
to the law. From this period began that life of 
restless movement from place to place, of solitary 
shunning of his fellow-men and of growing eccen- 
tricities which had its dramatic conclusion in the 
Rue du Marche Neuf, when Mademoiselle Jenny 
Savalette de Langes was discovered to be a man. 



PRINCE OR PEASANT? 
A Romance of the House of Orange 

{The following singular and romantic story was told to 

me some years ago by a late diplomatist, who probably knew 

as much as any man of his time of the secret history of the 

Courts of Europe ; and I reproduce the story as nearly as 

possible in his own words) 

It was In the early seventies that I made the 
acquaintance in Paris of the Prince of Orange, 
whose strange doings were at the time the talk of 
Europe. A few months earlier, as heir to the 
throne of the Netherlands, he had occupied a proud 
position in the world of royalties, and had been an 
honoured and feted guest at the greatest courts 
of the Continent. Then when his star was at its 
zenith, he had suddenly and mysteriously renounced 
his royal rank, turned his back on the splendours 
of courts and come to Paris, to fling himself into 
the lowest dissipations of the French capital. 
What was the cause of this tragic transformation, 
none seemed to know. The most plausible ex- 
planation was that he had quarrelled with his 
father. King William III., beyond all hope of 
reconciliation, and had fled to Paris in disgrace, 
to find in its allurements forgetfulness of his 
trouble. 

Paris was scandalised daily by the reports of 
the Prince's doings. More than once he was seen 

274 



PRINCE OR PEASANT? 275 

reeling, hilariously drunk, through the streets, or 
lying incapable, the sport of the gamins ; he was 
known to haunt the lowest cabarets, drinking and 
gambling with the scum of the capital. Not only 
had he thrown aside every vestige of royal dignity, 
but he seemed dead to all sense of decency. 

To say that his conduct created consternation 
in France, especially in the highest quarters, is to 
understate the feeling of disgust and alarm it caused ; 
for of all the princes of Europe there was not one 
on whose life such mighty issues hung. He was 
heir, not only to the throne of Holland, but also 
— a much more important matter to France — to 
the Grand Duchy of Luxemburg, that buffer state 
between Germany and France on which both 
countries were casting envious eyes. If the Prince 
of Orange should die before coming to his king- 
dom Luxemburg would, beyond all doubt, fall to 
a German prince and thus strengthen the arm of 
France's powerful enemy. On the other hand if 
the Prince survived his father, the grand duchy 
would still remain allied to the Dutch crown — a 
vital factor for the balance of power and the peace 
of Europe. 

But King William was still a lusty man, with 
probably many years of life before him, while his 
son and heir was burning the candle, not only at 
both ends, but in the middle ; and it seemed 
humanly certain that his Paris dissipations would 
bring his career to an early and tragic close. You 
can thus understand something of the horror with 
which France, just recovering from her disastrous 
war with Germany, watched the headlong plunge 
to ruin of the young man on whose life so much 



276 PRINCE OR PEASANT? • 

depended. And it seemed hopeless to try to avert 
the calamity. Attempts were made, to my know- 
ledge, to stop the Prince in his downward career ; 
but, though he would promise to amend his ways 
and even to make peace with his father, the very 
next day he was back in the slough again, revelling 
with his low companions of both sexes. 

Probably no heir to a throne ever began his life 
under brighter conditions of promise than this mis- 
guided Prince. As a boy he exhibited all the 
qualities of head and heart which go to the making 
of a great ruler. He was strikingly handsome and 
gave promise of exceptional manly beauty ; and to 
these s'ifts were allied a warmness of heart and a 
highly sensitive nature which undoubtedly were the 
first cause of his undoing. 

The boy craved affection, but none was given 
to him by his father, from whom he naturally ex- 
pected it. To all his timid advances King William 
turned a cold shoulder. The very sight of his son 
seemed to anger him ; and more than once when 
the boy looked for a smile or a kind word he was 
told to "begone." It is little wonder that under 
such treatment the young Prince's affection was 
frozen at its source. Love gave place to indiffer- 
ence, and in time to a bitter resentment. If he 
could not find appreciation at home, he would seek 
it elsewhere ; and, as a boy barely in his teens, he 
would steal out of the palace and wander through 
the streets of The Hague or in the country around, 
picking up any acquaintance that came his way ; 
and there was no lack of those who were proud to 
have the company of the heir to the throne. 

He made friends of the sailors and fishermen, 



PRINCE OR PEASANT? 277 

went out to sea with them, and hobnobbed with 
them over their pots of beer. He fell into the 
company of adventurers of both sexes, learned to 
gamble and to drink and to be as disreputable as 
themselves. When news of these escapades came 
to King William's ears, he was beside himself with 
rage. He lectured the Prince severely on his 
depraved tastes, punished him, and ordered his 
governor to keep him under lock and key, if 
necessary. But this treatment only served to feed 
the fires of the Prince's rebellion. He defied his 
father and governor to do their worst ; and plunged 
deeper in the dissipation which he had grown to 
love. 

One day the climax came. The King, furious at 
some escapade wilder and more disgraceful than any 
that had preceded it, summoned the Prince before 
him, and poured the vials of his wrath on him. *' You 
should have been the son of a peasant and not of a 
king," he continued scathingly, ** since your tastes 
are so degraded." Stung by the taunt the Prince 
answered, ** I wish I had been ; for then, at least, 
I might have had a father who cared a little forme." 
At this the King, beside himself with rage, burst 
into a torrent of abuse, using epithets so degrading 
that the Prince at last exclaimed, *'You forget, 
Sire, that the blood of the House of Orange flows 
in my veins as in yours." **That is a lie," 
thundered the King. *' You are no son of mine'' ; 
and, then, as if horrified at what he had said, he 
suddenly checked himself and collapsed trembling 
into a chair. 

But the fatal words had been spoken and could 
not be recalled. His father had disavowed him, 



278 PRINCE OR PEASANT? 

had declared that he was no son of his. This then 
was the secret which explained all — his loveless 
childhood, the coldness and aversion with which 
the King had always repelled him. For a time the 
revelation stunned the Prince, and deprived him of 
all power of speech ; but, recovering himself with a 
great effort, he demanded an explanation of the 
terrible words — an explanation which the King, 
probably realising that he had gone too far to 
retreat, or hoping that the revelation might lead 
the Prince to reform his conduct, at last consented 
to give. 

How the story King William had to tell came to 
my knowledge I am not at liberty to state, but 
that it is true I assure you I have the best means of 
knowing. I will tell it to you just as I heard it ; 
and since the actors in this singular drama have 
long been dead I cannot see any objection to your 
making it public. 

Queen Sophia, of Holland, had been married 
twelve years without providing an heir to her 
husband's throne, when the people of the Nether- 
lands were thrown into a high state of jubilation by 
the news that she was at last expected to become 
a mother. Would the child be a girl or a boy was 
the question which passed from mouth to mouth ; 
and as the fateful day drew near speculation reached 
a pitch of almost feverish excitement. The sex of the 
coming child was, as I have explained, a matter not 
only of national, but of international concern. If it 
should be a girl, farewell to the Duchy of Luxem- 
burg, which, under the Salic law, could not be 
inherited by a female and would thus be lost to 
Holland for ever, with consequences to the peace 



PRINCE OR PEASANT? 279 

of Europe too serious to contemplate. The King 
himself was even more anxious and excited than his 
subjects, and for days before the event only left his 
wife's side to pace restlessly up and down an adjoin- 
ing room, or to snatch a few minutes of disturbed 
slumber. 

When the child was born, a little unexpectedly, 
the only persons present were the physician and a 
nurse who was at once sent to announce the event 
to the King and to request him to come to the royal 
bedchamber. A glance at the doctor's face revealed 
the truth to his Majesty, without a word spoken. The 
infant was a girl ; all his hopes and those of his 
subjects — nay, of half Europe — were laid in the 
dust ; or if any remained for the future, they were 
destroyed by the doctor's announcement that the 
Queen could never bear another child. 

William was distraught. The event, now that 
he grasped it in its full significance, was worse than 
all his fears, since hope was dead. He rebelled 
against the harshness of fate, and all kinds of mad 
speculations ran riot in his brain. Perhaps, he 
suggested, he might outlive the Queen, and her 
successor might provide a male heir to Luxemburg. 
No, was the doctor's answer ; it was much more 
probable that the Queen would survive him. 
Would it not be possible then, was the King's 
next wild proposal, to declare that the child was 
a boy and to bring her up as a male ; but a little 
consideration showed how impracticable the sug- 
gestion was. 

At this stage of the King's perplexity the Prime 
Minister arrived at the palace ; and to him his 
Majesty told his predicament and asked his advice, 



280 PRINCE OR PEASANT? 

little dreaming that a solution of the difficulty was 
at hand. To the alert and daring mind of the 
Premier a way of escape instantly suggested itself. 
As he had been walking through the park on his 
way to the palace he had heard that the wife of 
one of the lodge-keepers had, a few hours earlier, 
given birth to a boy. "If your Majesty is agree- 
able," he said, '* it would be a comparatively easy 
matter to arrange an exchange of infants. The 
lodge-keeper's boy can be brought to the palace 
and installed in the royal nursery : and the Queen's 
daughter can take his place at the lodge." 

Inhuman, almost inconceivable, as the proposal 
was, the King approved it, and it was promptly 
carried into effect. The physician himself took 
away the princess and effected the substitution, 
bringing back the lodge-keeper's child to be brought 
up in the palace as heir to the thrones of Holland 
and Luxemburg, The few actors in this infamous 
drama were sworn to secrecy, heavy bribes serving 
to secure more completely the silence of the nurse 
and the parents of the boy ; while the Queen, who 
knew nothing of the exchange, took to her breast 
the low-born infant, proud in the knowledge that 
she had not disappointed a nation's hopes. Fortun- 
ately the royal child only survived the terrible 
wrong done to her a few days, thus reducing 
materially the risk of discovery ; and the lodge- 
keeper's son grew up to young manhood in absolute 
ignorance that he was other than the rightful heir 
to the crown of Holland, until the King, in a 
moment of ungovernable rage, revealed the secret 
of his birth. 

You may imagine the feelings of the Prince as 



PRINCE OR PEASANT? 281 

this story was pitilessly unfolded by the man whom 
he had always regarded as his father. At first he 
thought that it was a story concocted by the King 
to reduce him to a becoming state of submission. 
It was too preposterous to be true — that he who, 
from his earliest memory, had occupied the proud 
position of heir to the throne of the Netherlands, 
and who had moved, in this character, in the most 
exalted circles of European royalty, should be the 
son of a lodge-keeper, whose proper position in 
life was among the humblest of his future subjects. 
But as the King proceeded and the conviction 
slowly grew in his dazed mind that this was no 
made-up tale, but a grave, precise statement of fact, 
a fierce anger took the place of stupefaction, as he 
realised the dastardly plot of which he had been 
the innocent victim. 

It was true then that he was nobody's son, that 
the trappings of royalty had been but a mockery, 
and that he had been made to pose to the world 
as an impostor such as the world had rarely known. 
In his bitter resentment he vowed that he would 
renounce his rank and make a public exposure of 
the infamous trick that had been practised on 
him and on the nation ; and it was only when 
the King, realising his danger, implored the Prince 
to spare him this shame, that he consented to 
remain silent. 

One thing was clear. He could no longer con- 
tinue to play the false role that had been thrust on 
him. He would shake the dust of Holland off his 
feet, and go away — anywhere where he could hide 
himself from the world. The King, after trying 
in vain to shake his resolution, at last consented 



282 PRINCE OR PEASANT? 

that he should retire, for a time at least, into private 
life ; and, with a sufficient allowance, the Prince, 
who was no prince, was allowed to depart — to 
Paris, where he thought he could best hide himself 
and his troubles. 

And this was how the Prince of Orange came 
to be in Paris, and it is some explanation, if not 
an excuse, for the life he led there. How that 
life ended, after years of terrible dissipation, the 
world knows. Some years before his death Queen 
Sophia had died ; and King William was able to 
marry again. But his hopes of saving Luxemburg 
were again doomed to failure. His second queen 
had only one child, a daughter, who now reigns in 
his place ; and Luxemburg was lost to Holland. 



THE MYSTERY OF THE LOST 
ARCHDUKE 

Many stories are told of princes who, for the love 
of maids of low degree, have gladly laid aside the 
trappings of their royal rank and turned their 
backs on the splendours of courts ; but not one 
of them all has quite the haunting fascination of 
the love romance of Johann Salvator, Archduke 
of Austria, which is to-day as strong in its appeal 
to the imagination as it was a score of years ago, 
while the mystery that surrounds it is more im- 
penetrable than ever. The last chapter of it still 
remains unwritten ; and if any live to read it, it 
will probably prove even more remarkable than 
those which precede it. 

Nearly sixty years have gone since the hero of 
this strange romance was cradled at Florence, the 
son of the Grand Duke Leopold, and near of kin 
to the Emperor of Austria. It was a proud herit- 
age to which this scion of the Hapsburgs was 
born. The most royal blood of Europe ran in 
his veins, and he was destined to move in the 
innermost circle which had for its centre one of 
the greatest thrones of the world. And as a boy 
Prince Johann gave promise of becoming one of 
the most brilliant figures in this circle. He was 
dowered with a rare beauty and intelligence, and 
his ambition was to become a great scholar and a 
distinguished soldier. He had a genius for master- 
283 



284 THE MYSTERY OF THE LOST ARCHDUKE 

ing languages ; and he developed remarkable gifts 
as a poet, musician and naturalist. But his favourite 
study was the science of war ; and, long before he 
reached manhood, there was little of the military 
systems and resources of Europe that he did not 
know all about. 

It would have been well for the young Archduke 
if he had left military matters alone ; for the more 
he studied and learned, the more dissatisfied was 
he with the antiquated methods of his own country. 
This would have mattered little, if he could only 
have kept his views to himself or have exercised 
a little tact in advancing them. But this Johann 
could not do. He was a born agitator and re- 
former ; and, like so many men of his class, was 
as rash in advocating his views as he was careful 
in forming them. His first tactical blunder was in 
publishing a pamphlet in which he mercilessly 
exposed the faulty organisation of the Austrian 
artillery. The fossilised generals gasped with 
horror at the daring of the young man ; and even 
the Emperor, who always had a weakness for his 
clever kinsman, read him a lecture on his temerity. 
But Johann went his own way in spite of the 
anger of generals and of imperial frowns. He had 
a mission in life — to reform the Austrian army — and 
he meant to go on with it. Not long after he 
had launched his pamphlet, he published a book on 
** Drill and Training," in which he scathingly criti- 
cised the Austrian military system from top to 
bottom, turning it into ridicule. The book created 
a tremendous storm. It was rapturously hailed by 
the populace and the younger men of the army ; 
but on the War Office and the Court it fell like a 



THE MYSTERY OF THE LOST ARCHDUKE 285 

bomb. The consternation and wrath it excited 
were too great for words. Could nothing be done 
to stop the pen and tongue of this young iconoclast? 

The Archduke, however, only smiled at the storm 
he had raised. He could afford to smile ; for he 
had the nation at his back. Austria idolised the 
plain-speaking prince, who had proved on many 
a battlefield in Bosnia that he was as clever and 
courageous as he was outspoken ; and had not even 
the War Office been compelled to recognise his 
supreme abilities by raising him to field-marshal's 
rank at an age when even an archduke might have 
counted himself lucky to wear the badge of colonel ? 

All might still have gone well with Johann if he 
had been content to couch his lance in the cause 
of military reform. But his hotheadedness now 
carried him into the dangerous field of politics. He 
conceived a scheme for freeing Russia from the mis- 
rule of the Tsar by a joint crusade of France and 
Austria ; he became embroiled in Balkan politics ; 
he accused Bismarck of designing the destruction 
of the house of Hapsburg ; and in these and other 
ways became a serious menace to the peace of 
Europe. To crown his follies he quarrelled seriously 
with the Crown Prince Rudolph, his most intimate 
friend ; and openly defied Field- Marshal Archduke 
Albert when he ventured to remonstrate with him. 

The end of it all was inevitable. The Emperor, 
his authority defied and his patience exhausted, sent 
for the Archduke and sternly told him to choose one 
of two alternatives. He must either amend his 
ways altogether, or leave the army and resign 
his royal rank. He chose the latter, and left the 
Emperor's presence a broken man. His rank as 



286 THE MYSTERY OF THE LOST ARCHDUKE 

a soldier was taken from him, his name was struck 
out of the army-Hst, and he was forbidden to show 
his face at Court. 

The Archduke cared not a straw for the loss 
of his royal rank, or for the wrath of those in high 
places ; but his dismissal from the army cut him to 
the heart. 

It was a punishment he had never conceived 
possible. The army was the one thing he cared 
for most on earth, and in the first fresh burst of 
grief life itself appeared a useless burden now that 
he could no longer pursue the profession he so 
loved. His friends, to mitigate in some measure the 
violence of the blow, assured him his disgrace could 
not last long, as his brilliant qualities would soon 
soften the Emperor's heart and cause his reinstate- 
ment. Strong pressure was brought to bear to 
induce him to submit to his punishment in silence, 
and at first he did so, but as the days passed the 
task of restraining him became more and more 
difficult. 

During those long and weary months of enforced 
inactivity Johann spent his time literally eating out 
his heart. He retired to his estate near Gmunden 
in great discontent. There he passed the days in 
hunting and the evenings in the company of Count 
Prokesch, with whom he read and discussed Shake- 
speare and the works of other great playwrights. 

Naturally, however, it was not long before his 
restless spirit rebelled against a life so tame and 
cabined. He must seek distraction somewhere, 
and to Vienna he went in search of it, little dream- 
ing what a revolutionary effect these visits were to 
have on his life. One night in the Imperial Theatre 



THE MYSTERY OF THE LOST ARCHDUKE 287 

there floated on to the stage a vision of radiant 
young beauty, of voluptuous charm and sylph-like 
grace, which was a new revelation to him of the 
possibilities of female loveliness. There was a 
subtle witchery in every glance of her bright eyes 
and every undulation of her exquisitely fashioned 
body. It was an intoxication to watch her, and 
from the moment of her entry the vision possessed 
and absorbed the young Archduke to the exclusion 
of all the other brilliant and beautiful figures on the 
stage. 

Before he left the theatre he realised that he 
would know no peace until he had won this 
bewitcher of the senses and made her his own ; 
and before he slept he had discovered who she was 
and where she was to be found. The girl whose 
magic had cast such a potent spell over the prince's 
heart was Emilie Stubel, daughter of a small 
Viennese tradesman. She had, he learned, two 
sisters, both, like herself, on the stage, and a 
brother, Camille, who played minor roles in opera. 
Only a year or two earlier, Emilie had made her stage 
ddbid in the ballet ; but her beauty, grace and clever 
dancing had already captured the heart and homage 
of Vienna, as they would, no doubt, later conquer 
the world. 

Such was Emilie Stubel, the tradesman's daughter, 
when, all unknown to herself, she made a conquest 
of the Emperor's cousin. That she was a maid of 
such low degree mattered not one iota to the Arch- 
duke. He was burning with resentment against 
those of his own station ; he had forsworn them 
and the gilded circle in which they moved, while 
Emilie was more radiantly lovely than any girl he 



288 THE MYSTERY OF THE LOST ARCHDUKE 

had met in the world of courts, a jewel fit to be 
worn on any man's breast. 

It was no difficult matter for him to make the 
young lady's acquaintance, which he did in the 
guise of a student ; and in this role he was intro- 
duced to Emilie's parents, whose favour was quickly 
won by the handsome, unassuming young man, 
whom they were not at all unwilling to accept as a 
son-in-law. Nor was it long before Emilie lost her 
heart as completely to her devoted young wooer as 
he had lost his, at first sight, to her. Nothing 
could be happier than the state of affairs. Emilie 
was in the seventh heaven of delight, her parents 
were highly gratified, and the ''student "yf«^^/ was 
the happiest man in Vienna. 

It was a few weeks after this happy consumma- 
tion of love's young dream that Emilie and her 
mother went to see a review of the army, which 
was attended by many of the greatest personages 
in Austria ; and there, to her amazement, she saw 
her student-lover, in a uniform so splendid that, as 
she said, " it quite took my breath away." What 
was he doing there, the poor student, masquerading 
in attire so rich and splendid ? Surely she must 
be mistaken ; but, no, it was undoubtedly her lover ; 
there was no mistaking the handsome face and 
dignified carriage which had glorified the scholar 
in her eyes. *' Who is he ? " she asked a bystander. 
** That," was the answer, **is the Archduke 
Johann ! " 

It was a lively greeting the Archduke received 
when, on the following day, he called at the house 
of his lady-love. Frau Stubel read him a severe 
lecture on his conduct in winning her daughter's 






THE MYSTERY OF THE LOST ARCHDUKE 289 

affection under false pretences. No good could 
come of it, she declared indignantly, and she would 
be no party to such scandalous goings-on. Her 
daughter might be poor and obscure, but she was 
too good a girl to be the plaything even of a 
royal duke. Johann was becomingly penitent. 
He vowed that he loved 6milie with his whole 
heart, that he was no longer a royal prince but 
a plain citizen like Herr Stubel himself, and that 
he asked nothing better of life than to be Emilie's 
husband. Thus peace was made, Johann was 
taken into favour again, and within a few weeks 
he led his beautiful bride to the altar, and took 
her to his estate near Gmunden, where for a 
time they led a quiet but ideally happy life 
together. 

When another year had passed thus, the Arch- 
duke decided to wear sackcloth no longer. *' I 
claim the right to work," was his constant cry ; 
"and if I am not allowed to do it in my own 
country I will go out into the world in search 
of it." In spite of his aged mother's tears and 
pleadings he formally and finally renounced all 
his titles and estates, and declared that henceforth 
he would be known simply as ** Johann Orth," a 
decision in which he had his wife's loyal support. 
Together they left their Gmunden home, and for 
a time none knew what had become of them. 

Some declared that Johann hired himself out 
as a workman, in imitation of Peter the Great ; 
others professed that he had been seen, carrying 
a napkin, in a Berlin restaurant ; and others again 
were equally assured that he worked as a reporter 
on American papers. Whatever may be the truth 



290 THE MYSTERY OF THE LOST ARCHDUKE 

or falsehood of these rumours, it is known that, 
in the year 1890, the Archduke and his wife were 
in London, where they were formally remarried, 
and where Johann Orth passed an examination 
and secured a navigator's licence. Thus equipped, 
he went to Hamburg, purchased the Santa Mar- 
gherita, a well-found iron sailing-vessel of about 
1300 tons, and, a few weeks later, as owner of 
the Santa Margherita, and accompanied by his 
wife, he left England on his first voyage to South 
America with a cargo of cement. Finding no 
freight for his return voyage, he made Iquique 
in ballast, and from there he wrote to a friend in 
Vienna : '* My first captain, Sodich, is very ill 
and must, therefore, remain here. Of my other 
officers, one I have decided to dismiss on account 
of incapacity, and to grant leave to another for 
various reasons. I am my own captain, and must 
undertake, without officers, the voyage to Val- 
paraiso, around the Horn." 

It is said that not only did he lose his officers, 
but his entire crew was paid off here, and it was 
with an entirely fresh crew that he put to sea 
on his perilous voyage round Cape Horn, the 
narrow seas off which are a graveyard of gallant 
ships. From the moment that the Santa Mar- 
gheritds masts dipped below the horizon on this 
voyage, she vanished as completely as if the sea 
had swallowed her. Not a trace of her or of 
any soul on board her has been seen, to the 
knowledge of the world, from that day to this. 
Up to this time the Archduke had written 
regularly to his beloved mother, the Grand 
Duchess of Tuscany. Since the Santa Mar- 



THE MYSTERY OF THE LOST ARCHDUKE 291 

gherita left Iquique not a line from her son ever 
reached her. Nor has anything since been seen 
or heard of any member of her crew. The 
accepted explanation of this mystery was that 
the vessel had foundered in a storm, and had 
carried her ill-fated crew to the bottom of the 
sea, where Johann Orth's secret is preserved 
until '*the day when all things will be revealed." 

The Emperor Joseph sent out an expedition on 
a man-of-war to explore the South American coast 
in search of the missing ship, among the searchers 
being the Archduke Francis Ferdinand, heir to the 
Austrian crown ; but not a solitary survivor, not 
even a vestige of wreckage, rewarded weeks of 
search. 

The world, however, was by no means content 
to believe that the career of this remarkable prince 
had ended thus. The fact that no evidence was 
ever found to prove that the Santa Margherita had 
been lost, and the known daring, reckless temper 
of its owner, gave rise to the speculation that, in 
order to break entirely with his old life, Johann 
Orth had changed the name of his ship, had painted 
her another colour, and had altered her rig, to sail 
the seas anew and unknown. It would be no easy 
task to render a three-mast ship of the Santa Mar- 
gherita s build proof against recognition. Emilie 
Stubel, in one of her last letters home, lends some 
colour to this theory by speaking vaguely of a **no 
man's island " they hoped to find, where they would 
live happily ever afterwards. 

Before leaving Austria, Johann Orth had de- 
posited his private fortune in a Swiss bank, and 
through his attorney, Dr von Haberler, drew on it 



292 THE MYSTERY OF THE LOST ARCHDUKE 

frequently. By virtue of his power of attorney 
Haberler, after the Santa Margherita had been 
missing for nearly two years, drew this money. 
The bank refused to pay it out. The courts 
decided that, as the death of the depositor was not 
proved, his power of attorney held good, and the 
money was consequently paid. On the other hand, 
Haberler sued fourteen life insurance companies of 
Hamburg for a sum of about ^ii,ooo, for which 
Johann Orth had been insured. The companies 
appealed against an order to pay this money, but 
leave to appeal was refused. The German courts 
held the loss of the ship and everyone on board 
her to be proved. 

In spite of this decision many persist in believing 
that the adventurous Archduke has not left his 
bones in Davy Jones' locker — that he still lives 
and will some day resume his rightful place in the 
world, with the wife who has been so faithful to 
him. And every year brings some fresh rumour 
to keep this belief alive. There is scarcely a corner 
in the world in which Johann has not been seen 
and recognised by one or another. He has been 
seen fighting gallantly with the Japanese against 
the Russians ; and some declare that he is no 
other than the brilliant Japanese general. Marshal 
Yamagata! He was in Chili, according to another 
rumour, bearing arms against Balmaceda ; and 
George Lacour, a French author of repute, recently 
published a book in Paris, proving to his own 
entire satisfaction that Johann Orth is living in 
Argentina under the guise of a mysterious and 
elusive Don Ramon. 

Some say that he and his wife are leading a 



THE MYSTERY OF THE LOST ARCHDUKE 293 

primitive and happy life on a remote island in the 
Pacific ; others that he has been seen recently in 
the company of his kinsman, the Archduke Louis 
Salvator, in Mallorca ; while, only the other day, 
it was stated in the papers that he was passenger 
on board a vessel bound from America to England, 
that he had been recognised and challenged by a 
fellow-passenger and had admitted he was in truth 
Johann Orth, one time Archduke of Austria, and 
that he was seen, later, walking in the streets of 
London. 

Such are a few of the many rumours which for 
nearly twenty years have kept Johann's romantic 
story fresh in the public memory. Elusive as a 
will o' the wisp, flitting from one quarter of the 
globe to another, he has become invested with all 
the haunting mystery of the Flying DtUchmaUy 
and his story will hold the imagination until he 
reappears in the flesh or until (which will probably 
never be) his death is a proved fact. 

To her last breath Johann's mother, the Grand 
Duchess of Tuscany, refused to believe that her 
son was dead. In her castle, Schloss Orth, on the 
fringe of a Tyrolese forest, she spent the closing 
years of her life, patiently and confidently awaiting 
his return. ** My son is not dead," she would say 
to those who offered her sympathy. '' I know that 
he lives and that he will come back to me before 
I die." His rooms were always kept ready for the 
wanderer, and through the night a welcoming light 
burned in a window of the castle to guide him 
home. But the Grand Duchess died and he never 
returned. Throughout the Tyrol, too, the loyal 
mountaineers, to a man, share the same unshaken 



294 THE MYSTERY OF THE LOST ARCHDUKE 

faith. ** He will come back," they say — **oh yes, 
he will come back " — and a right royal welcome 
still awaits his coming. 

There are at least two men living who are sup- 
posed to know the truth. One is Dr von Haberler, 
his attorney, who, it is said, hears from him 
regularly every month. The other is the Baron 
von Abaco, who was captain of the Royal Body- 
guard on the night of the Archduke's dis- 
appearance, and was privy, it is supposed, to the 
plans of his royal friend. Years ago the Baron 
retired from the world to German New Guinea, 
where, with two loyal henchmen, he lives on his 
estate and cultivates rubber and tobacco. He 
never mentions Europe, and the man who addressed 
him by his old title would offend him seriously. 
There he dwells with his secret ; and unless the lost 
Archduke should reappear in the world, the Baron 
will go to his grave with that secret still untold. 



THE QUEEN OF COURT BEAUTIES 

In all the brilliant pageant of courts no figure has 
moved with a more queenly beauty and a more 
captivating grace than Virginie, Countess Castig- 
lione, who for a few years in the middle of last 
century dazzled the world by her charms and 
conquered hearts by a glance ; and few have drunk 
more deeply of life's delights and its bitterness. 

A romantic story tells us that this peerless 
woman was cradled in a farm-house and spent her 
early years in a rustic environment of cows and 
hens ; but, in fact, her origin was much more ex- 
alted and less romantic. Virginie first opened her 
beautiful eyes in a Florentine palace, the daughter 
of the Marquis Oldoini, an Italian diplomat, and 
his marchioness, one of the most graceful and 
charming women of her day. Beauty and rank 
were thus her heritage, and seldom has woman 
turned them to better account. 

As a child she exhibited a rare promise of loveli- 
ness and of that indescribable gift of fascination which 
in later years made her supreme among her sex. 
She was born to inspire the passion and devotion 
of men ; and before she had emerged from short 
frocks she was besieged by wooers. At twelve 
her beauty was the talk of Florence. When she 
accompanied her mother to the theatre, her tall, 
graceful figure, her brilliant eyes, and her exquisite 
complexion, fresh and fragrant as a half-opened 
295 



296 THE QUEEN OF COURT BEAUTIES 

rose, attracted all eyes to her ; and when she 
walked abroad she was followed by an embarrassing 
retinue of admirers. She was, even at this early 
age, by universal assent the most beautiful girl 
in all Italy. 

One day in 1854, so the story is told by Fr^d^ric 
Loli^e, the youthful Count Castiglione was present 
in London at a reception given by the Duchess of 
Inverness ; and, as he gazed at the galaxy of the 
beautiful women around him, he said to his friend 
Count Walewska, ** I suppose you do not know 
what has brought me to London ? I have come in 
search of a wife." *' My dear Castiglione," the 
Count answered; "if that is so you have made a 
great mistake in leaving Italy. Go back, get an 
introduction to the Marchioness Oldoini and win 
her daughter. You will then have the most beauti- 
ful wife in Europe." The Count followed this 
friendly advice ; fell hopelessly in love with the fair 
Virginie the moment he set eyes on her radiant 
young charms, and after a brief wooing won her 
consent to be his wife. But the girl's heart was far 
from accompanying her hand. '' I will marry you," 
she said, '* because my mother wishes it. But, 
remember, I do not love you ; I shall never love 
you ; in fact I know I shall always be indifferent 
to you." 

It was under such unpromising conditions that 
Virginie was led to the altar, an unwilling and un- 
happy bride, by the Count de Castiglione — young, 
handsome and rich, but of weak character and 
dissipated habits. Such a husband could never 
inspire respect, much less affection, in the proud, 
strong-willed young beauty. She owed him no 



THE QUEEN OF COURT BEAUTIES 297 

allegiance, and she never gave it. Even before 
the honeymoon had waned she set the Count at 
defiance. In vain he implored her to pay the 
bridal visit, prescribed by custom, to his mother. 
She refused point-blank. Seeing that appeal and 
commands were alike useless he determined to 
conquer by artifice. One day he invited his wife 
to accompany him on a drive, secretly bidding the 
coachman to drive to his mother's house. Virginie 
showed no sign of suspicion until the carriage was 
crossing the river and her destination became clear. 
Then, taking off one of her shoes, she flung it into 
the water, saying triumphantly, *' Now, take me 
back. I can't enter your mother's house barefoot." 
And back the Count had to take the pretty rebel. 

M. Loliee paints a charming picture of Virginie 
at this period of her life. '* Her blue eyes had a 
magic softness ; her brown hair, rich and abundant, 
clustered round the pure lines of her brow ; the 
arms and bosom had an indescribable grace in their 
exquisite curves ; the dainty dimpled chin, the 
lovely parted tips, like an opening crimson flower, 
appear to invite a caress. Even more beautiful, 
if possible, was her figure, which was faultless in 
its symmetry, and its grace of outline ; while her 
arms and hands, in their perfect modelling, were 
the despair of sculptors." 

Such was the Countess Castiglione when she 
stood on the threshold of womanhood, the most 
peerless of her sex, not only in Italy, but in all 
Europe ; and her personal charm and intelligence 
were at least equal to her physical perfection. 
Wife though she now was, she was constantly 
surrounded by lovers, including King Victor 



298 THE QUEEN OF COURT BEAUTIES 

Emmanuel himself, the most indefatigable of them 
all, to whom she dispensed her smiles and favours 
with a charming abandon which drove her husband 
to distraction. She was a born Queen of Hearts, 
and right royally she played the role, 

Cavour, Victor Emmanuel's minister, was the 
first to discover in the Countess other gifts than 
those of beauty. With her subtle intellect and her 
rare gift of making men the slaves of her will, she 
would make an ideal diplomatist ; and he had little 
difficulty in inducing her to go to Paris in this char- 
acter, to throw her spell over Napoleon and enlist 
his aid in liberating Italy. It was a mission which 
made an irresistible appeal to the Countess's ambi- 
tion. She would be a great force in Europe, the 
arbiter of national destinies. She had long been 
weary of her weak-kneed husband, and it was with 
a light heart that she made the journey to France, 
to conquer the world. 

At Paris she was received with the honours of 
an empress and the homage due to the loveliest 
woman in Europe ; and among her warmest wel- 
comers was Napoleon himself, who, in his crownless 
days, had petted her as a child. Her first appear- 
ance at the French Court was at a grand ball at 
the Tuileries, where her reception was such as 
miofht well have turned a less well-balanced head. 

As she entered, so great was the sensation caused 
by her superlative beauty and grace, that both 
dancing and music ceased as if at some magic and 
mysterious bidding, and in breathless admiration 
every eye was turned to her. Through the avenue 
of motionless dancers the Emperor advanced to 
meet her, and, with a profound obeisance such as 



THE QUEEN OF COURT BEAUTIES 299 

a queen might have envied, kissed her hand and 
bade her welcome to his Court. The band struck 
up again and, with Napoleon's arm round her 
waist, the Countess was soon lost in the whirl of 
dancers. 

All Paris was soon raving over the beauty and 
elegance of the Italian Countess whose charms so 
far outshone those of its loveliest women. The 
men almost fought to win a smile or a word from 
her lips ; the fairest ladies of the Court joined, 
however reluctantly, in the chorus of adulation ; 
and the people mobbed her in the streets to catch 
a glimpse of her peerless face. And all this extra- 
vagant homage the Countess accepted with a 
placidity as perfect as herself. None knew better 
than she how beautiful she was, and none wor- 
shipped more ardently at the shrine of her loveli- 
ness. She was a queen, by Nature's supreme 
award, and the world was her subject. Other 
beautiful women there might be ; but the best 
of them were only fit to be her ministers and her 
foils. "^ 

Great as was the sensation caused by her beauty, 
she created a still greater sensation by the daring 
with which she invested it. Remarkable stories 
are told of some of her appearances at Court 
functions. To one State ball it is said she went in 
the character of Salammbo, in draperies so trans- 
parent as to startle and shock the least prudish. 
On another occasion she appeared as ** Queen of 
Hearts," with her hair falling in a glittering cascade 
to her knees. She wore no corset, we are told, 
•* and the beautiful curves of her bosom, in its proud 
independence of all artificial support, were left 



300 THE QUEEN OF COURT BEAUTIES 

almost entirely exposed by the light drapery of 
gauze. Her skirt was raised and caught back, 
showing the under petticoat ; and over both skirt 
and bodice was thrown a chain of hearts." 

It is perhaps little wonder that Napoleon, who 
was ever a lover of ladies, found such charms, 
allied to such abandon, irresistible. Cavour had 
not over-estimated the powers of his fair ambassa- 
dress ; Napoleon was at her feet, an abject suppliant 
for her favour, eager to prove his affection in any 
way she chose to dictate. Recalling in later years 
this crowning period of her conquest, the Countess 
said, "If I had only gone to Paris earlier, you 
would have seen an Italian and not a Spaniard 
sharing Napoleon's Throne." And probably she 
was right ; for Eugenie's fascinations, faultlessly 
beautiful as she was, were to the Italian's as water 
to wine, or as the moon to the sun in its dazzling 
splendour. 

Napoleon knew no happiness away from the 
eyes of his enchantress. At the risk to reputation, 
and even to his life, he made secret visits to her 
house in the Rue de la Pompe, spending hours in 
her company, and passing the intervals in feverish 
impatience until he could see her again. It was while 
leaving, after one such visit, that he narrowly 
escaped the dagger of the assassin. Driving out 
of her courtyard at an early hour in the morning, 
three men sprang out of the darkness with daggers 
raised to kill him. Fortunately the coachman saw 
the attack, and, lashing his horses, drove furiously 
away, thus saving the Emperor's life by a margin 
of seconds. 

An even more startling episode is associated 



THE QUEEN OF COURT BEAUTIES 301 

with another of Napoleon's visits to the Countess. 
Accompanied by his aide-de-camp, General Fleury, 
and by Griscelli, one of his secret agents, he made 
his way one night to the Hotel Beauvau, where 
madame was expecting him. Mounting the stairs, 
the Emperor and his aide-de-camp were ushered 
into the Countess's room by a maidservant — the 
detective, unseen by the maid, having already taken 
up his position in a dark recess on the landing. 
No sooner had the door closed than the maid clapped 
her hands ; a man stole out of an adjacent room 
and trod stealthily towards the room in which the 
Emperor and the Countess were closeted. He was 
about to turn the handle when a blow from behind 
struck him to the heart and he fell dead on the 
threshold. Before she could escape Griscelli, who 
had struck the fatal blow, seized the treacherous 
maid, locked her in a room, and, in spite of madame's 
tears and protestations of innocence, carried off the 
Emperor, whose life his watchfulness and stout arm 
had saved. 

Whether or not the Countess was as innocent 
as she professed to be of this dastardly attempt 
to assassinate her lover (a pistol and a poisoned 
dagger were found on the body of the dead man), 
or what, if guilty, her motive could be, is not clear. 
On the following day she was escorted across the 
frontier, where she spent the next few months, in 
solitude, in a villa at Turin, secretly railing at 
Fate, which had brought her career of triumph to 
such a sudden and ignominious end. 

But madame was not the woman to eat out her 
heart for long in solitary repining. She knew too 
much of Napoleon and his secrets to be made an 



302 THE QUEEN OF COURT BEAUTIES 

enemy of ; and she soon secured her recall to 
France, to resume her place as queen of beauty and 
of the Emperor's heart. Her supremacy was now 
more assured than ever ; she dazzled Paris by her 
charms and shocked it by her unconventionality. 
The ladies of the Court she treated with a fine 
indifference, almost contempt ; the men were all 
at her feet. 

Every day brought some new story of her daring 
and eccentricity to feed the gossip of Paris. One day 
she received her friends in a room draped in black, 
while she, in startling contrast, was robed in trans- 
parent white. One Christmas eve she spent pacing 
the roof of the Louvre, listening in the moonlight 
to the clashing of the bells. She invited the world 
of fashion to a series of tableaux vivants in which 
she exhibited her beauty in the most startling and 
least conventional poses. Even when she was ill 
she could not resist this fondness for posing. On 
one occasion, when her doctor was urgently sum- 
moned to her bedside, he found her lying in bed 
amid billows of laces and costly furs, with jewels 
flashing in her hair, on neck, arms and hands, in a 
room full of the most exquisite flowers. 

Her admiration of her beauty often, it is said, 
assumed forms as frank as they were embarrassing. 
"Would you like to see my arm ?" was the start- 
ling question she would ask ; whereupon, without 
even waiting for assent, she would draw up her 
sleeve and expose its faultless outlines to admiration, 
or she would similarly offer her dainty and beauti- 
fully fashioned foot and ankle for inspection. To 
what extent this self-worship was carried is shown 
by the following story. She commissioned one of 



THE QUEEN OF COURT BEAUTIES 303 

the greatest artists of France to paint her as 
Venus, lying on a couch. Under such inspiration 
the artist surpassed himself and produced a picture 
so ideally beautiful that the sight of it threw the 
Countess into a passion of jealousy. ** It is more 
beautiful than I am ! " she exclaimed ; and, seizing 
a knife, she slashed at the painted limbs until the 
canvas, that had so outraged her vanity, was hang- 
ing in strips, which she consigned to the flames. 

But amid all her social triumphs and love con- 
quests Madame Castiglione never lost sight of her 
diplomatic mission. Her charms and all her talents 
were enlisted in its service. She flattered Napoleon, 
wheedled ambassadors and ministers, and cast her 
spell over all the most potent political forces in 
Europe ; and, in her achievements, surpassed even 
Cavour s most extravagant expectations. As she 
herself says in a letter to her lifelong friend, 
General Estancelin, ** I carried Victor Emmanuel 
to Rome, and overthrew seven Napoleonic, Bour- 
bon and Papal dynasties . . . " ; and there was, no 
doubt, much truth in her proud boast, ** I have 
created Italy and saved the Papacy." 

With the fall of the Empire the Countess's era 
of splendour and power came to its close. The 
brilliant crowd among which she had moved as a 
queen was dissipated, and there was no longer any 
place for the charming intriguer. Humiliating as 
her fall was, she could have borne it with resig- 
nation, even with indifference, content to live in the 
memory of her too brief hour of dazzling triumph ; 
but the loss of her beauty she could not bear, and 
this was fading fast. She found herself losing her 
glorious hair, her pearly teeth, the perfect contour 



304 THE QUEEN OF COURT BEAUTIES 

of her face. Her figure, which had been the most 
perfect in the world, was losing all its grace and 
slightness ; and there were those who did not 
scruple to rejoice openly at the havoc Time was 
playing with the ** Queen of Beauty." 

Her powerlessness to stay the ravaging hand of 
Time was the bitterest drop in her cup of humilia- 
tion ; but she could at least prevent others from 
witnessing the decline of her charms. She went 
less and less into society, and shut herself up more 
and more from the world. Even her most attached 
friends she visited only at long intervals. Of one 
of these visits M. Loliee tells a pathetic story. 
One day Madame Walewska was told that a lady, 
who refused to give her name, wished to see her 
for a moment. When she went to the hall she 
saw a woman thickly veiled and muffled who, 
producing a superb bouquet of roses from her black 
silk draperies, said, *' It is I, Nicchia. It is your 
birthday, and I have brought you a few flowers." 
** Don't go away," pleaded madame, as her visitor, 
whose voice she recognised, prepared to depart, 
** or, at least remove your veil and let me see you 
again." For a moment the Countess hesitated — 
dared she show herself, so changed, to her old 
friend ? — and then removing her mantle and her 
veil she stood revealed. "But you are lovely, as 
lovely as ever," exclaimed Madame de Walewska 
enthusiastically. ** Do come in and let my guests 
see you." For the last time the Countess's soothed 
vanity prevailed ; she joined the guests, was flatter- 
ingly received, and for a few hours was her old gay, 
brilliant, conquering self again. 

But the next morning her too candid mirror told 



THE QUEEN OF COURT BEAUTIES 305 

its tale. Her beauty had Indeed fled, and it was 
only the pity of her friends that had given it a new 
and brief resurrection. She lapsed again into her 
old hopelessness, and determined never to show 
herself abroad again. She refused to receive any 
but a few of her most loyal friends who, instead 
of knocking at the door, announced themselves 
by signals, when she admitted them — all except 
General Estancelin, who was free to come and go 
when he pleased. 

Thus the dreary years passed, each robbing her 
of her beauty, until not a trace of it remained. She 
had several sumptuous apartments in Paris in which 
for twenty years and more she never set foot. She 
had carriages and horses always ready at her bid- 
ding, but she never made use of them. Occasionally, 
in the darkness of night, she would steal out of her 
room, thickly veiled, and walk to the Rue Casti- 
gilione to spend a few moments in gazing at the 
walls within which she had spent her years of 
greatest splendour, returning sadly to her apartment 
in the Place Vendome. Here she passed her 
miserable days alone. Day and night her windows 
were closely shuttered. Every room was hung 
with dark draperies, which the light of a single 
low-turned gas-jet only served to make more 
funereal ; and nowhere was there a mirror to remind 
her of the beauty that had fled. 

When at last she saw death coming to release 
her from her living tomb, she wrote to her friend 
Estancelin : '' Remember my instructions. I want 
a solitary funeral. No flowers, no church, no one 
at all. See that nothing is published about me, 
and return all my portraits." And these instructions 
u 



306 THE QUEEN OF COURT BEAUTIES 

she repeated In her will. For thirty years she had 
been hidden from the world, and after death she 
wished to preserve the same secrecy. 

The Countess passed away — from an attack of 
cerebral apoplexy — very quietly during the night of 
2 1 St November 1899, and was laid to rest in the 
cemetery of Pere Lachaise. There the curious may 
see to-day a plain slab of granite which alone marks 
the spot where the most beautiful woman of her 
day, the friend of kings and the arbitress of national 
destinies, sleeps her last sleep. 

Her best epitaph, if she had boasted one, might 
have been written in her own words : — *' The 
Eternal Father Himself did not know the thing He 
had created when He brought her into the world. 
He moulded and fashioned her until, when she was 
complete, He lost His head before His own 
marvellous work ; and He left her in a corner 
instead of putting her in her true place. There- 
upon, He was called away elsewhere, and when He 
returned — she was not to be found." 



A ROYAL MOUNTEBANK 

Captivating and cruel, supreme scholar and abject 
slave to the senses, stateswoman and buffoon — such 
was Christina, Queen of Sweden, the "Sybil" and 
" Semiramis of the North," whose career alternately 
dazzled and disgusted Europe in the seventeenth 
century and whose life story, surely the strangest 
that has ever been told of a sovereign lady, still 
fills its readers with mingled fascination and 
loathing. 

Christina's entry on the stage of life, on which 
she was destined to play such strange and varied 
roles, was a disappointment. Her august parents 
and all Sweden had confidently anticipated a male 
heir to the throne, for his coming had been 
heralded by many a prophetic dream and by the 
voice of the stars; and when, in place of the jubi- 
lantly expected heir there came a puny, swarthy, 
ill-favoured girl-child, there was lamentation alike 
in Court and cottage. The Queen-Mother, it is 
said, never recovered from her disappointment, and 
for years could not look on her unwelcome daughter 
without aversion. 

The child of such strangely contrasted parents 
could scarcely fail to be remarkable. Her father 
was Gustavus Adolphus, a fair-haired Scandinavian 
giant, a man of strong arm and lion heart, terrible 
in war as he was gentle in peace. His passion for 
fighting was allied to a taste for letters. He was 
307 



308 A ROYAL MOUNTEBANK 

soldier and student, dreamer and destroyer ; and 
these diverse qualities were strangely reproduced in 
the child who was not wanted. 

From her mother Christina undoubtedly inherited 
many weaknesses, and probably not one virtue. 
Queen Mary indeed seems to have been little 
removed from the imbecile. She had a mania for 
gorgeous raiment, revelled in the company of 
persons of low degree, and surrounded herself with 
dwarfs and buffoons, while such time as she could 
spare from these allurements she spent in fits of 
weeping. Vanity and tears, superstitious obser- 
vances and imbecile pleasures — of such ingredients 
was Gustavus' queen composed. 

Christina, the child of these oddly contrasted 
parents, was but six years old when her father died 
fighting gallantly at Lutzen, in 1632, thus furnishing 
an occasion for grief which was not lost on his 
lachrymose queen. Shrouding her rooms in black 
draperies her Majesty wept day and night, her 
groans and lamentations echoing through the 
palace ; and her child, who was her unwilling 
companion, she compelled to weep and moan with 
her. Happily for Christina's sanity the Chancellor 
Oxenstiern came to her rescue. He packed the 
Queen off to a distant castle to weep alone, and 
took the girl under his care. 

Christina spent the next ten years of her life 
surrounded by learned professors, whose duty it 
was to educate her for her exalted position ; and 
seldom have teachers had so eager and apt a pupil. 
In her anxiety to learn she would scarcely allow 
herself time to eat or sleep, and soon her learning 
was the talk and wonder of Sweden. Before she 



A ROYAL MOUNTEBANK 309 

had long entered her teens she had mastered eight 
languages ; she could quote Greek by the hour ; 
and her Latin and French compositions were 
published for the admiration of the world. She 
discussed theology with bishops, confounded philo- 
sophers with her arguments, and ministers with her 
knowledge of statecraft. Nor was this the sum of 
her accomplishments ; for she could swear like a 
trooper, bring down a running hare with a bullet, 
and was the most skilful and daring horsewoman 
in the kingdom. 

For dress this odd and gifted princess had a pro- 
found contempt, and she was equally indifferent to 
cleanliness ; but her greatest scorn was reserved for 
her own sex and all that concerned it. She wanted 
to be a man — and to her last day she was a man, in 
all but sex. 

Though she was small and ill-shapen (one shoulder 
was higher than its fellow) Christina did not lack 
personal attractiveness ; and she never looked better 
than when, with hair flying in the wind, with flushed 
cheeks and sparkling blue eyes, she was racing 
madly on horseback across the country. The 
Swedes were proud of their Christina to a man, 
and, in her youth at least, not without reason. 

That she had many faults, even in girlhood, she 
herself frankly confessess. She admits that she has 
a vile temper, is imperious and impatient, sarcastic 
and contemptuous. She pleads guilty, too, thus 
early to a '* disregard for the proprieties which ought 
to be observed by her sex." And herein lay her 
gravest fault. She had no sense of morality, and 
revelled in the knowledge. 

When, her education finished, Christina took the 



310 A ROYAL MOUNTEBANK 

reins of government into her own hands, her true 
character, which had hitherto been concealed under 
the veil of study, was quick to show itself. Like 
Catherine the Great, she chose her favourites from 
among the handsomest of her courtiers or from her 
subjects of whatever rank, and changed them as 
lightly as she changed her gowns. Count Magnus 
of Gardie was one of the first to take her fancy 
captive — a handsome youth barely of man's estate. 
She showered dignities and presents on him, made 
him head of her household, grand treasurer, ambas- 
sador and what not, only to dismiss him and call 
him a ''drunkard and a liar" to his face when the 
dark-eyed Spaniard Pimentelli came on the scene. 
Pimentelli, in turn, had to give place to a low-born 
successor in the royal favour; and so on, in bewilder- 
ing sequence, the reign of each favourite being as 
supreme as it was short-lived. But such pleasures 
as these by no means filled Christina's days. She 
loved to surround herself with the most learned men 
in Europe — poets, scholars, philosophers — all of 
whom ministered to her vanity and afforded oppor- 
tunities for the exercise of her clever brain and 
tongue. She killed poor Descartes by dragging 
him out of bed at five o'clock on winter mornings 
to talk philosophy with her ; and scared Huet, later 
Bishop of Avranches, away by her crushing theo- 
logical arguments. 

And, Queen though she now was, she remained 
as indifferent to her personal appearance as when a 
child. ** She never combs her hair but once a week," 
Manneschied records ; '' and sometimes lets it go 
untouched for a fortnight. On Sundays her toilet 
takes about half-an-hour, but on other days it is 



A ROYAL MOUNTEBANK 311 

despatched in a quarter. Her linen is ragged and 
much torn." When a bold courtier once ventured 
to hint at the virtue of cleanliness, her Majesty- 
retorted, ''Wash! that's all very well for people 
who have nothing else to do." 

From a discussion on religion or philosophy she 
would turn to conversation of a nature by no means 
delicate. She revelled in stories of a questionable 
character ; and when the narrator, from a desire to 
avoid offending her, substituted allowable for objec- 
tionable words, she would, to quote one who knew 
her, ** boldly speak out the words, though they were 
never so unseemly, which modesty forbids me to 
write here." 

Such in early womanhood was Queen Christina 
before she gave full rein to those eccentricities and 
vices which, even then, were stirring into life, and 
which were, later, to obtain full mastery over her. 
The change began with the arrival of Bourdelet 
at the Court of Sweden. The son of a French 
barber, Bourdelet had had a romantic career before 
he entered Christina's life. With a slight training 
as an apothecary he travelled through Europe pos- 
ing as a doctor, the possessor of wonderful secrets 
for the cure of all ailments from a bad complexion 
to a malignant fever. He was gay and witty, could 
sing and play divinely, and was a past-master of 
the arts of pleasure. Ladies adored the clever and 
handsome adventurer : and the Pope himself fell 
under his spell and would have made a cardinal 
of him if some shady business in which he had 
engaged had not compelled a hasty retreat from 
Italy. 

Shortly afterwards he was summoned to Sweden 



312 A ROYAL MOUNTEBANK 

to practise his medical skill on Christina, who 
fancied she was at death's door. As a matter of 
fact she was seriously ill — the result of her years 
of hard study and neglect of the most elementary 
rules of health. Bourdelet was quick to see the 
cause of his royal patient's indisposition. He 
bade her leave her books and studies and replace 
them with a life of gaiety ; and Christina proved 
a docile patient. She went at a bound from one 
extreme to the other ; turned her back on scholars, 
statesmen and study and flung herself into a whirl- 
pool of wild dissipation. She spent her days and 
nights in dancing and revelry, and made her whole 
Court follow in her giddy wake. She made grave 
professors dance jigs, sing comic songs and play 
the clown, and laughed at their antics until the 
tears streamed down her cheeks. She laughed 
in the face of her ministers who wished to see her 
on affairs of state, and invited them to join in a 
minuet instead. 

Sweden looked on aghast at these strange antics 
of its beloved Queen. She must be mad, was the 
general opinion. To Bourdelet she gave the 
highest offices in the state and the army. She 
lavished fortunes on the barber's son, the minister 
of her pleasures, whose impudent and arrogant airs 
soon became intolerable to the most long-suffering 
of her subjects ; while the whole country groaned 
under the burden of the taxes which fed her 
prodigal extravagance. So strong and universal 
was the resentment against Bourdelet that it be- 
came no longer safe for him to walk abroad ; and, 
when he had done all the damage he could, he 
disappeared, laden with gold and presents and 



A KOYAL MOUNTEBANK 313 

with a recommendation to the favour of Mazarin, 
who made an abb^ of him. 

The loss of her favourite soon had a startHng 
consequence. Christina was weary of her queen- 
dom and of her impoverished subjects. She 
yearned to go out into the world to win a wider 
homage, to dazzle the courts of the Continent ; 
and, summoning her Senate one day in 1654, she 
announced her abdication of the crown in favour 
of her cousin, Charles Augustus. The Senate and 
all Sweden were struck with amazement. Christina, 
however, was inexorable. Her mind was fully and 
finally made up and she turned a deaf ear to plead- 
ing and protests. She packed up her treasures, 
dismissed her retinue, had her hair cut short, put 
on man's clothes, and with a gun on her shoulder 
— she vowed she was going to fight in Flanders — 
disappeared. 

A few weeks later Christina was travelling in 
Denmark as the son of the Count of Dolma ; and 
there a curious adventure befell her. While she 
was staying at an inn she was visited by the Queen 
of Denmark, who, disguised as a servant, waited 
on her royal sister of Sweden. '* So cleverly did 
she act her part that Christina had no suspicion 
and chattered intimately with the polite and 
attractive serving-maid, talking, among other 
things, in no complimentary way of his Majesty 
of Denmark. When Christina left the inn the 
Danish Queen sent a page after her to inform her 
that the maid to whom she had spoken so dis- 
paragingly of the King of Denmark was none 
other than Denmark's Queen. On hearing this 
Christina laughed aloud and exclaimed, ' What ! 



314 A ROYAL MOUNTEBANK 

that servant girl who was standing there all dinner- 
time was the Queen of Denmark! Well, there 
has happened to her what often happens to curious 
people — they make discovery of more things than 
are agreeable to them. It is her own fault; for, 
as I have not the gift of divination, I did not look 
for her under such a dress as that' " 

From Denmark the errant Queen made her way 
to Hamburg with a small escort of men-in-waiting 
and a few valets, who officiated as her maids, and 
there she began perhaps the most remarkable royal 
progress in history. Into each large town on her 
route she made a state entry, in gorgeous uniform, 
riding with regal dignity through the principal 
streets and receiving the salutations of the on- 
looking crowds and the solemn addresses of the 
officials with a queenly graciousness ; until at one 
stage or other some mad impulse turned the grave 
proceedings into a grotesque farce. She would, 
for instance, make grimaces at the respectfully 
cheering spectators ; interrupt a loyal address with 
a loud oath or a questionable jest, or burst into a 
peal of laughter while some dignified personage 
was greeting her. 

The reception over, she would vanish mysteri- 
ously, wander from inn to inn hobnobbing with 
peasants until she felt disposed to resume the 
splendours of her progress and startle another city 
with her gorgeous trappings and her mad escapades. 
At Brussels, where she was royally received, she 
announced her conversion to the Catholic faith, 
giving as her sole reason that she was sick to 
death of the length and prosiness of Protestant 
sermons! At Innspriick she shocked everyone 



A ROYAL MOUNTEBANK 315 

present by her flippancy during the ceremony of 
abjuration ; and when this was followed in the 
evening by a play given in honour of the royal 
convert, she exclaimed to her hosts, ** Gentlemen, 
it is only fair that you should offer me a comedy, 
since I have just given you a farce." 

At Rome, whither Christina now hastened to 
flaunt her new faith, she was received with ultra 
regal honours. Cardinals and bishops, great nobles 
and ambassadors, went in stately procession to 
meet her, in their gilded coaches drawn by six 
richly caparisoned horses, and with retinues decked 
out in their most splendid trappings ; and with 
them went the fairest and most highly placed ladies 
of Rome, each with her suite of forty attendants. 
On this reception the Pope had lavished 1,250,000 
crowns, and its preparation had kept hundreds of 
Roman hands busy for half a year. 

Evenmore splendid was the occasion of Christina's 
visit to the Vatican to receive the Papal welcome 
and benediction. Rome gave up the day to high 
festival ; the route was lined with thousands of 
troops and the Catholic Queen made her progress 
to the booming of cannon, the clashing of bells and 
the fanfare of trumpets. Astride of a white horse 
she pranced, with a cardinal at each side, at the 
head of a procession a mile long. 

Christina took Rome by storm. She dazzled it 
by her wit and shocked it by her indiscretions. 
She laid down the law to the Pope, coquetted 
with cardinals, patronised the proudest nobles and 
inaugurated a reign of revelry which swept the 
Vatican off its feet. Infected by her example, the 
entire Sacred College flocked to the theatres nightly. 



316 A ROYAL MOUNTEBANK 

"The balcony of her box," says Doran, **was 
every night crowded by cardinals who looked with 
edification on the ballerinas, and listened with 
delight to the exquisitely dressed singing girls, who 
resorted to Rome at the invitation of Christina." 
The etiquette, when she was present, was of the 
very strictest, the noblest in Rome being compelled 
to remain uncovered as long as she was in the 
house. The gay cardinals, who lolled over the 
balcony in front of her box, alone wore their caps, 
in allusion to which privilege a paper was one night 
fixed beneath the balcony, on which was inscribed, 
'* Plenary indulgence for the gentlemen in purple." 
Christina was equally zealous in her attendance 
at the services of her Church, during which she 
would laugh and joke with her attendants, or make 
loud comments to the amazement of her fellow- 
worshippers. 

Meanwhile she squandered her money with a 
lavish hand on a hundred follies and dissipations 
until, her exchequer exhausted, she was compelled 
to appeal to the Pope for a loan. And when his 
Holiness offered her 2000 crowns a month if 
she would only behave herself, she was furiously 
indignant, pawned her remaining jewels, and shook 
the dust of Rome, for the time, off her feet. 

From Rome she drifted to France, to repeat her 
regal receptions and her follies. At every city on 
her triumphal journey she was greeted with fulsome 
addresses, and royally entertained. The Duke of 
Guise, who was sent by the King to act as her 
escort, describes the Queen at this time as ** tall, but 
somewhat stout, with broad hips, a well-shaped arm, 
a white and pretty hand. Her bodice, laced behind, 



A ROYAL MOUNTEBANK 317 

is not straight ; her chemise shows above the 
skirt, which is ill-fastened and awry. She is much 
powdered and pomatumed ; has men's boots, and 
in point of fact has almost a man's voice and quite 
a man's ways. Though she is proud and haughty 
she can be polite, even caressing in manner. She 
speaks eight languages, and is as learned as our 
Academy and our Sorbonne put together. Indeed," 
he concludes, **she is a very extraordinary person." 

At Compiegne the ** Grande Demoiselle " herself 
met Christina and together they went to the theatre 
where, the princess records, *'the Queen swore like 
a trooper, threw her legs about, putting first one, 
then the other over the arms of her chair ; she took 
attitudes such as I have only seen in the case of 
Trivelin and Jodelet, the buffoons. She would fall 
into deep reveries, sigh loudly and then, all at once, 
come to her senses as if she had awakened from 
a dream." 

All Paris turned out to greet and stare open- 
mouthed at this remarkable Queen, as she made 
her entry astride of her enormous white horse. 
She wore, we are told, a flaming scarlet doublet and 
a plumed hat, carried pistols at her holster and 
gaily twirled a light cane. When her Majesty had 
sufficiently startled Paris and drunk her fill of its 
doubtful homage she went to visit the King and 
Queen at Compiegne. What Louis must have 
thought of his strange guest may be imagined, for 
at their meeting, Mademoiselle de Motteville says, 
*'her wig was all uncurled and awry, her short skirt 
showed her man's boots ; her complexion made her 
look like a bold and wild gipsy, and her hands were 
filthily dirty." And yet, in spite of these unattrac- 



318 A ROYAL MOUNTEBANK 

tive externals she quickly made a very favourable 
impression on her royal host, who found her "quite 
charming, if unconventional." 

How unconventional she could be Louis was not 
long in discovering. Even he was shocked when 
Christina, in the presence of the whole Court, 
*' flung her legs up on a chair as high as that on 
which she was seated, and altogether exhibited them 
a little too freely " ; and when she borrowed his 
valets to perform the most delicate offices for her. 
But in spite of these and similar unconventionalities, 
such as her exhibitions of rage, her volleys of oaths 
and the savage manner in which she attacked her 
meals, Christina might have long remained a guest 
at the Court of Louis had she not interfered with 
his love affairs and urged him to marry Marie 
Mancini, Cardinal Mazarin's lovely niece, against 
the strong wishes of his mother. Anne of Austria 
was the last woman in the world to tolerate such 
interference with her designs for her son, and 
Christina was politely but firmly told that her 
presence was no longer desirable. 

Once more the Queen started on her travels. On 
her journey back to Italy she spent a night at 
Montarges, where the Grande Mademoiselle paid 
her a visit, of which she gives the following amusing 
account. " I was invited to go up alone and found 
her in bed. A tallow candle stood on the table ; a 
towel twisted round her shaven head, served as a 
nightcap ; her nightgown, which had no collar, was 
tied by a large knot of flaming yellow ribbon ; her 
sheets only reached half way up the bed, over which 
an ugly green counterpane was thrown. In this 
state," adds Mademoiselle, "she was not beautiful." 



A ROYAL MOUNTEBANK 319 

At Rome Christina's reception was so chilling 
that she returned to Fontainebleau, where her 
presence was equally unwelcome, and, as the Court 
was not there, was allowed to stay for a time in the 
palace ; and it was while at Fontainebleau that the 
tragic event occurred which has covered Christina's 
memory with obloquy as long as time shall last. 

In her Majesty's retinue were two young Italian 
nobles, the Marquess Monaldeschi and Count 
Sentinelli, who were rivals in her fickle affection. 
Sentinelli was the favourite of the moment ; and 
in his jealous anger the Marquess wrote certain 
letters, in imitation of his successful rival's hand- 
writing, which contained insulting references to her 
Majesty. When this act of treachery came to 
Christina's ears she planned a terrible revenge. 
She summoned the two men to her presence, 
Sentinelli bringing two Italian soldiers with him ; 
and, producing the insulting letters, asked Monal- 
deschi if he recognised them. The Marquess at 
first denied all knowledge of the letters, and then, 
pale and trembling, confessed his guilt and, flinging 
himself at the feet of his royal mistress, implored 
her pardon. Turning a deaf ear to his entreaties, 
Christina said to a monk, who had also been sum- 
moned to the meeting, " Father, I leave this man 
to you. Prepare him for death. Minister to his 
soul " ; and without another glance at the cowering 
Marquess went to her room to gossip light-heartedly 
with her ladies. 

Then followed one of the most terrible tragedies 
in human history. The monk, as terrified as if he 
himself had been sentenced to death, went to 
Christina to plead for the wretched man's life. 



320 A ROYAL MOUNTEBANK 

She turned away with a laugh and continued her 
gossiping. Monaldeschi again dragged himself 
to her feet and besought her by the wounds of the 
Saviour to have mercy. '* I am sorry," was her 
answer, ** but I cannot grant your request." 
** Force him to make his confession and then 
kill him," was the fiendish message she sent to 
Sentinelli. 

Then the butchery began, before the Marquess, 
in choked and anguished voice, had well begun his 
last confession on earth. The Count pushed him 
against the wall of the gallery and struck the first 
blow. The Marquess, who was unarmed, seized 
the sword and three of his fingers fell to the floor. 
The two soldiers then joined in the attack ; blows 
rained on the unhappy man, whose shirt of mail 
but served to prolong the agony of death, until 
bleeding from a score of wounds he collapsed on 
the Hoor. A final thrust from the Count's sword, 
and the deed — one of the blackest in history — was 
accomplished. And while her former lover was 
being butchered, with his death cries in her ears, 
Christina discussed the latest scandal in the adjoin- 
ing room, and her gay laughter was the only sound 
that mingled with the last moan of her victim. 

Europe was struck with horror by this inhuman 
act. It had long shaken its sides with laughter 
at Christina's eccentricities, and professed to be 
shocked by her immoralities ; but to order her 
lover's murder and to laugh wantonly while he was 
done to death was a very different matter. She 
was a monster, a ghoul, unfit to draw the breath of 
life. When Mazarin sent a messenger to warn her 
that it would not be safe to show her face in Paris 



A ROYAL MOUNTEBANK 321 

she sent back an impertinent answer, assuring him 
that if Monaldeschi were still alive '* I should not 
sleep to-night before seeing that the deed was 
done. I have no reason to repent." And twenty- 
five years later she was just as impenitent. '^ I am 
in no humour," she wrote, ** to justify myself of 
Monaldeschi's death. This fuss about him seems 
to me as absurd as it is insolent. Westphalia may 
think him innocent if it will ; to me it is a matter of 
the utmost indifference." 

It was equally a matter of indifference that the 
whole world now gave her the cold shoulder. 
*'The shaven adventuress," as she was dubbed, 
treated the contemptuous world with scorn, and 
went her own erratic way to the end. When 
Sweden refused her permission to put foot on its 
shores she turned her horse's head with a laugh and 
rode away. She intrigued to wrest Pomerania 
from Sweden by armed force, and to capture the 
throne of Poland ; but all her scheming failed, for 
none would help her. When the long-suffering 
Pope withdrew^ her pension she threatened to sack 
the Vatican and to depose him. Thus, shunned and 
execrated by all, Christina spent the last thirty 
years of her strange life an impoverished pariah ; 
but defiant and impenitent to the last. 

When she realised that her end was near she 
determined to leave the stage of life, on which she 
had played so many remarkable parts, in a manner 
that should astonish and impress the world. She 
had a mortuary robe made '*of white brocade, 
richly embroidered with flowers and gold orna- 
mentation ; with trimming and buttons of gold and 
with a fringe of the same around the bottom of the 



322 A ROYAL MOUNTEBANK 

skirt " ; and, thus prepared for the closing scene, 
she awaited with a light heart the signal for the 
dropping of the curtain. 

The end came one April day in the year 1659 ; 
and if she could have had a posthumous regret 
at leaving life it must surely have been that she 
could not see her own obsequies. Now that her 
career was ended all Rome conspired to send her 
to her grave under circumstances of ultra regal 
splendour. Clothed in her gorgeous costume of 
brocade and gold, with a crown on her head and a 
sceptre in her hand, her body was laid in state in 
the Church of Saint Dorothea whose black draperies 
were illuminated by 300 tapers. 

When dusk fell, her coffin, concealed by a violet 
mantle, edged with ermine, was carried in state to 
St Peter's. Five hundred monks with lighted 
tapers led the long procession, followed by artists 
and scholars and the members of a score of religious 
bodies, while, following the body, came cardinals 
and archbishops, lords and equerries, in gilded 
coaches, drawn by gaily caparisoned horses. And 
thus brilliantly escorted Christina was laid to rest 
under the stately dome of the world's greatest 
cathedral, to await the verdict of posterity. 

More than two centuries have gone since 
Christina's crooked body was thus splendidly laid to 
rest and her equally crooked soul appeared before 
its Creator, but historians still wrangle over her 
memory. Seldom have such great gifts and possi- 
bilities been allied to such deplorable defects and 
failure. Her cleverness, falling little short of 
genius, and her fascinations are forgotten in the 
contemplation of the vices which made her the 



A ROYAL MOUNTEBANK 323 

byword of Europe in her day, and especially of 
that crowning act of treachery and cruelty which 
branded her for ever as infamous, a woman with 
the heart of a fiend. 

''Princes," she herself once said, ''resemble 
those tigers and lions whose keepers make them 
play a thousand tricks and turns. To look at them 
you would fancy they were in complete subjection, 
but a blow from the paw, when least expected, 
shows that you can never tame that sort of animal." 
And Christina was an animal who could never have 
been tamed. She belonged to the "rabble of 
kings." 



( 



A QUEEN WITHOUT A DIADEM 



**A NEW Constellation has lately made an appear- 
ance in the fashionable hemisphere that engages 
the attention of those whose hearts are susceptible 
to the power of beauty. The widow of the late 
Mr F-h-t has in her train half our young Nobility ; 
as the lady has not, as yet, discovered a partiality 
for any of her admirers, they are all animated with 
hopes of success." 

So ran a paragraph in The Morning Herald of 
the 27th July 1784, which announced to the world 
that a new and brilliant star had appeared in the 
social firmament of London to dazzle the eyes and 
play havoc with the hearts of men. Just a genera- 
tion earlier the beautiful Gunnings, **two Irish girls 
of no fortune, who make more noise than any of 
their predecessors since the days of Helen," had 
taken the town by storm ; and many who read the 
paragraph and remembered the furore caused by 
the intoxicating charms of the '* fair Irish invaders " 
wondered if they were to have a rival in the lovely 
widow who already had half the nobility in her 
train. 

Who was she ? was the question which sprang 
to the lips in every coffee-house and at street 
corners ; for the world at large had heard nothing 
of her until her sudden appearance in the metro- 
polis. And yet, in certain remote districts of 
England, there were many who had long fallen 

324 




MRS. FITZHERBERT. 



A QUEEN WITHOUT A DIADEM 325 

under the spell of her rare loveliness. As a child, 
the granddaughter of Sir John Smythe, head of 
a very old family in Durham, she had captivated 
all hearts by her beauty and winsomeness ; and as 
she grew to girlhood, "the fairest flower that ever 
bloomed north of the Tees," to quote an enthusiastic 
chronicler, she had a hundred love-sick swains in 
her wake. 

** Her abundant hair," says the same writer, 
**was of a pale gold; her complexion, that of the 
wild rose and hawthorn ; her features exquisitely 
chiselled ; her figure, full of grace." And these 
physical charms were allied to a sunny disposition, 
a sparkling wit, and a manner irresistible in its 
simplicity and its joyous vivacity. Such a prize 
was not likely to remain long unappropriated ; but 
it was a surprise and a shock to many when she 
turned a dainty cold shoulder on all her young and 
handsome lovers, and gave her hand to Mr Edward 
Weld, a wealthy Dorsetshire squire, who was older 
than her own father, and on whose knees she had 
often sat as a child. A year later she had ex- 
changed her bridal veil for widow's weeds, before 
she had seen her twentieth birthday. In three 
years more she became the wife of a Mr Thomas 
Fitzherbert, a man of old family and many acres, 
only to become a widow again at twenty-five, with 
a jointure of ;^2000 a year. 

After this second matrimonial misadventure Mrs 
Fitzherbert spent two years of retirement on the 
Continent, from which she emerged more beautiful 
than ever, to captivate London, as we have seen, 
by a new revelation of female loveliness. 

Still young, in the matured bloom of her peerless 



326 A QUEEN WITHOUT A DIADEM 

beauty, and liberally dowered with gold, it is little 
wonder that she soon had the world of London at 
her feet. Before she had been many weeks in 
town she was hailed as an unrivalled queen of 
beauty and was able to pick and choose among 
the coronets at her disposal. But to all her titled 
wooers she said " no." She had had quite sufficient 
experience of wedded life to satisfy her, and was 
by no means disposed to make a third venture, 
however seductive it might be. She was perfectly 
happy in her peaceful life on Richmond Hill 
with her occasional glimpses of the gaiety of the 
capital. 

Even when the Prince of Wales was added to 
her army of lovers, his wooing did not bring a 
single flutter to her heart. How and where they 
first met, the Prince and the fair widow, does not 
appear to be certainly known. Some say he first 
fell under the spell of her beauty by the Thames 
side at Richmond, others that she first dazzled his 
eyes from Lady Sefton's box at the opera. How- 
ever this may be, it is certain that, within a very 
short time of seeing Mrs Fitzherbert, the heir to 
the throne was her infatuated slave. At this time, 
we must remember, George was beyond all ques- 
tion one of the handsomest men in England. **He 
was," we are told, "tall and finely formed; he had 
a handsome and manly countenance ; his leg — and 
legs were much esteemed in the eighteenth century 
— was the envy of the beaux ; his smile, the desire 
of all belles ; and his bow the most princely in 
Europe." He was also the acknowledged king of 
dandies, in an age when dandyism was an art on 
which fortunes were lavished and to which lives 



A QUEEN WITHOUT A DIADEM 327 

were dedicated. At one of his Court appearances, 
we learn, *'his coat was of pink silk with white 
cuffs ; his waistcoat of white silk, embroidered with 
various coloured foil, and adorned with a profusion 
of French paste ; while his hat was ornamented 
with 5000 beads." 

Such was the fascinating and splendid figure that 
now appeared in the drama of Mrs Fitzherbert's 
life, in which he was destined to play such a con- 
spicuous and, in the end, tragic part. So far 
from encouraging her royal lover, Mrs Fitzherbert 
seems to have treated his advances with indiffer- 
ence and even with coldness. She was not the 
woman to play the part of light-o'-love to any 
prince, however handsome and exalted ; and, apart 
from the improbability that his attentions could 
be honourable, he was a mere boy, many years 
her junior and not to be taken seriously. But 
the colder her treatment, the fiercer burned the 
fire of the Prince's passion. 

In her letters she made her attitude towards him 
abundantly clear. *' Meet you ! " she writes, in 
answer to a request to meet the Prince on leaving 
a certain ball. " What, you i^ — the Prince of Wales ? 
whose character in the annals of gallantry is too 
well known for me to suppose that after such a 
meeting I should have any character at all." 
**Why," she writes in a later letter, ''should you 
wish for me ? There are a hundred much prettier 

women ! Mrs O for example — you think her 

pretty, — she is, indeed, divine ! and she has a 
husband to shield her from the rude attacks of 
envy. You may enjoy her conversation, and she 
yours, and malice dare not speak. But mCy an 



328 A QUEEN WITHOUT A DIADEM 

unprotected orphan ? It will be cruel to pursue 
the humble Margherita." 

The Prince tried in vain to break down the 
barriers of her modesty ; and when she threatened, 
if he did not cease to persecute her, to withdraw 
her friendship from him, he broke out thus : 
** Painful pre-eminence, would that I could lay it 
aside ! or that I might be permitted to introduce 
as a daughter to her Majesty virtues congenial 
to her own. To a Prince, who greatly needs it, 
so bright an example. To my subjects, so amiable 
a lady. Vain delusion! I know — I regret the 
impossibility. Deprive me not of your friendship, 
but try to give comfort to that heart which is all 
your own." 

To such desperation was the Prince at last driven 
by the hopelessness of his suit that he threatened 
more than once to take his life if she refused to 
make it worth the keeping ; and on one occasion 
he seems to have made an attempt to execute his 
threat. One day, as Lord Stourton tells the story, 
*' Keith, the surgeon, Lords Onslow and South- 
hampton, and Mr Edward Bouverie arrived at the 
house in the utmost consternation, informing her 
that the life of the Prince was in imminent danger, 
that he had stabbed himself, and that only her 
immediate presence would save him. She resisted 
all their importunities, saying that nothing should 
induce her to enter Carlton House. She was 
afterwards brought to share in the alarm ; but, 
still fearful of some stratagem derogatory to her 
reputation, insisted upon some lady of high char- 
acter accompanying her as an indispensable condi- 
tion. The Duchess of Devonshire was selected. 



A QUEEN WITHOUT A DIADEM ^29 

They four drove from Park Street to Devonshire 
House, and took her along with them. She 
found the Prince pale and covered with blood. 
The sight so overpowered her faculties that she 
was deprived almost of all consciousness. The 
Prince told her that nothing would induce him to 
live unless she promised to become his wife, and 
permitted him to put a ring round her finger. I 
believe a ring from the hand of the Duchess of 
Devonshire was used upon the occasion, and not 
one of his own. Mrs Fitzherbert being asked by 
me whether she did not believe that some trick had 
been practised, and that it was not really the blood 
of his Royal Highness, answered in the negative, 
and said that she had frequently seen the scar, and 
that some brandy and water was near his bedside 
when she was called to him on the day he had 
wounded himself." 

It was only after Mrs Fitzherbert had returned 
home after this dramatic and tragic experience and 
was able to review it in cool blood that she realised 
how she had been made the victim of a despicable 
trick and that the marriage had been but a mock 
ceremony which could have no binding effect. 
Then her pity gave place to a fierce indignation, 
and she wrote to Lord Southampton a letter of bitter 
reproach for the cowardly conduct of himself and 
his colleages. The following day she fled to the 
Continent to try to forget in foreign travel an 
experience so insulting and humiliating, and to 
escape from the further persecutions of her high- 
placed lover. 

When George heard of her flight his grief and rage 
were uncontrollable. Mrs Fox told Lord Holland 



330 A QUEEN WITHOUT A DIADEM 

that he *' came down to Chertsey more than once to 
talk with her and Mr Fox on the subject ; that he 
cried by the hour, that he testified to the sincerity 
and violence of his passion and his despair by the 
most extravagant expressions and actions — rolling 
on the floor, striking his forehead, tearing his hair, 
falling into hysterics, and swearing that he would 
abandon the country, forgo the Crown and all his 
jewels and plate, and scrape together a competence 
to fly with the object of his affections to America." 

He vowed that he would follow her to the ends 
of the earth ; but he could not leave England 
without the King's permission, and this his father 
point-blank refused to give, in spite of his tears and 
pleading. George III. had seen more than enough 
of the consequences of such ill-placed affection in 
the case of two of his brothers, and he would not 
tolerate it for a moment in his son, and successor 
on the throne. Thus foiled, George sent mes- 
sengers racing over the Continent in search of the 
fair fugitive, and when at last she was discovered 
in Holland ''he wrote pages and pages of pas- 
sionate pleadings, of heartrending appeals, of 
prayers for her aid, of threats of self-destruction 
if she remained obdurate — of everything, in short, 
that could touch or move the heart of a susceptible 
woman." 

Such importunity as this, as might be expected, 
was not without effect on the tender-hearted woman 
who, no doubt, had a warm place in her heart for her 
impetuous worshipper. She began to relent ; and, 
from conceding that "she would at least never 
marry any other man," at last consented to wed the 
Prince, on being assured that the King would place 



A QUEEN WITHOUT A DIADEM 331 

no obstacle in the way, and "on conditions which 
satisfied her conscience, though she could have no 
legal claim to be the wife of the Prince." 

Thus it came to pass that one December day in 
1785 she reappeared at her house in Park Lane; 
little dreaming that, while preparations for the 
wedding were being hurried on, the man to whom 
she had at last yielded was assuring Fox that there 
were no grounds whatever for the rumours of his 
projected marriage to Mrs Fitzherbert, ** which have 
been so malevolently circulated." 

The marriage ceremony was performed in Mrs 
Fitzherbert's drawing-room in Park Street, Park 
Lane, on the 15th December by the Rev. Robert 
Burt, a youthful curate, whose services had been 
secured by a fee of ^500 and liberal promises of 
future preferment. The Prince came to his nup- 
tials on foot from Carlton House, attended by the 
Hon. Orlando Bridgman, who kept guard, during 
the ceremony, outside the drawing-room door ; Mr 
Errington, Mrs Fitzherbert's uncle, gave the bride 
away, and he and her brother, Jack Smythe, acted 
as witnesses. Thus secretly and fearfully Maria 
Fitzherbert and George, Prince of Wales, knelt 
side by side and repeated the vows which made 
them man and wife. 

For a year or more the Prince and his bride were 
ideally happy in their union. They were insepar- 
able ; and, as was only natural, their intimate rela- 
tions gave rise to universal gossip and to speculation 
as to the nature of the tie which linked them so 
closely together. Meanwhile the Prince's finances 
were going from bad to worse, and it became 
necessary to bring them under the notice of Parlia- 



332 A QUEEN WITHOUT A DIADEM 

ment, a proceeding which caused the Prince the 
utmost alarm. He was on the horns of a terrible 
dilemma. On the one side more money was an 
absolute necessity to him ; on the other, his 
marriage must at any cost be kept secret, for in 
making a Papist his wife he had forfeited his right 
to the crown. 

In this predicament, with characteristic cowardice, 
he induced his friend Fox to declare to the Commons 
that the report of his marriage to Mrs Fitzherbert 
was "a monstrous invention, a low malicious false- 
hood " ; and on the strength of this assurance his 
debts were paid and he received an addition of 
;^ 1 0,000 a year to his Civil List income. On the 
following morning, Lord Stourton tells us, he called 
on Mrs Fitzherbert, " taking hold of both her hands 
and caressing her, said, ' only conceive, Maria, what 
Fox did yesterday. He went down to the House 
and denied that you and I were man and wife ! 
Did you ever hear of such a thing?' Mrs Fitz- 
herbert made no reply, but changed countenance 
and turned pale." 

When Mrs Fitzherbert told him that after such 
an act of treachery she could no longer live with 
him, he assured her that he had never authorised 
Fox to make any such statement, and that it should 
be publicly contradicted ; and, a few days later, 
Sheridan, at the Prince's request, made a statement 
to the House which, while not acknowledging his 
marriage, left his hearers to infer that Mrs Fitz- 
herbert was at least not the Prince's mistress. 

Peace thus restored by a double act of disloyalty, 
the latter little less contemptible than the former, 
Mrs Fitzherbert resumed relations with her cowardly 



A QUEEN WITHOUT A DIADEM 333 

husband, relations on which the following extract 
from Mr Raikes' diary throws a significant light : — 
** It was the fashion in those days to drink very 
hard, and Mrs Fitzherbert never retired to rest 
till her royal spouse came home. But I have heard 
the late Duke of York say that often, when she 
heard the Prince and his drunken companions on 
the staircase, she would seek a refuge from their 
presence under the sofa, when the Prince, finding 
the drawing-room deserted, would draw his sword 
in joke, and, searching about the room, would at 
last draw forth the trembling victim from her place 
of concealment." 

That there was, however, another and more 
amiable aspect to the Prince's character is shown 
by the evidence of the sixth Earl of Albemarle, 
who, as a child, was a frequent visitor at Mrs 
Fitzherbert's house. There he often saw the 
Prince of Wales, of whom he draws an attractive 
picture. He describes him **as a merry good- 
humoured man, tall, somewhat portly, with laughing 
eyes, pouting lips, and a nose which, very slightly 
turned up, gave a peculiar poignancy to the expres- 
sion of his face. 

*' No sooner," says the Earl, recording these 
childish memories, "was his Royal Highness seated 
in his arm-chair than my young companion (a 
daughter of her dear friend. Lady Horatia Seymour, 
whom Mrs Fitzherbert had adopted) would jump 
upon one of his knees, to which she seemed to 
claim a prescriptive right. Straightway would 
arise an animated talk between ' Prinny ' and 
* Minnie ' as they respectively called themselves. 
As my father was in high favour with the Prince 



334 A QUEEN WITHOUT A DIADEM 

at this time, I was occasionally admitted to the 
spare knee and to a share in the conversation, if 
conversation it could be called in which all were 
talkers and none listeners." 

That Mrs Fitzherbert was on the whole fairly 
happy with her royal husband, in spite of his 
dissolute habits, his infidelity and his treachery, 
there is no reason to doubt ; but such happiness 
as was hers was constantly clouded by the Prince's 
financial embarrassments, which at times were so 
great that, on one occasion, after they had returned 
to London from Brighton, they could not muster 
five pounds between them. It was this growing 
mountain of debt which at last compelled the 
Prince to marry Caroline of Brunswick, an alliance 
which was so repugnant to him that he had to 
nerve himself for the wedding ceremony by liberal 
draughts of brandy. 

"My brother told me," the Duke of Bedford 
records, **the Prince was so drunk that he could 
scarcely support him from falling. He told my 
brother that he had drunk several glasses of brandy 
to enable him to go through the ceremony. There 
is no doubt that it was a compulsory marriage." 
During the ceremony the Prince shed maudlin tears 
when the Archbishop of Canterbury, after repeating 
the words relative to '' any person knowing of a 
lawful impediment," laid down the book and looked 
earnestly at the King as well as at the royal bride- 
groom. The Prince's reward for this loveless 
marriaofe was that his debts were once more dis- 
charged and his income was raised to ;^ 100,000 a 
year. 

George had not long been wedded to his uncon- 



A QUEEN WITHOUT A DIADEM 335 

genial Brunswick bride when he expressed a strong 
desire to return to his **wife in the eyes of God," 
whom he declared he loved more passionately than 
ever ; but Mrs Fitzherbert would not listen to his 
pleading. Even when the King and Queen, with 
other members of the royal family, begged her 
to be reconciled to the Prince, she would only con- 
sent on condition that the Pope recognised the 
validity of her marriage to him. But when this 
high sanction was obtained, she became once more 
a loyal and loving wife to her recreant spouse. 
The eight years that followed this reconciliation 
were, she always declared, the happiest of her life. 
George was devoted to her ; his royal relatives 
treated her with affection, and the world at large 
paid her the respect due to the lawful wife of the 
heir to the throne. 

But these halcyon days, with a husband so in- 
constant, could not last for ever. George's fickle 
affection was never satisfied with one object for its 
exercise, and his amours with one Court lady or 
another must have caused Mrs Fitzherbert many 
an unhappy hour. The final rupture came when 
he fell under the spell of the beautiful Lady Hert- 
ford. In his new infatuation his devotion to his 
wife was changed to coldness and neglect. He 
would, we are told, pass part of the morning with 
her at her house in Brighton, and would ignore her 
altogether in the pavilion in the evening, for fear 
of offending the rival lady. The climax came when 
Mrs Fitzherbert presented herself at a State dinner 
to Louis XVHL, and asked the Prince where she 
was to sit. **You know, Madam, you have no 
place," was the contemptuous answer ; to which 



336 A QUEEN WITHOUT A DIADEM 

Mrs Fitzherbert retorted with dignity, ** None, sir, 
but such as you choose to give me." This crown- 
ing insult decided Mrs Fitzherbert to have done 
with a husband so cowardly and so inconstant. With 
the consent of the King and other members of the 
royal family she finally closed her connection with 
the Prince and went to Brighton, with an annuity 
of ^6000, to spend the rest of her days in retire- 
ment. 

Nineteen years later George died, after occupy- 
ing the throne for ten years, his last request being 
that he should be buried in the night-clothes he was 
then wearing. ** Almost immediately after he had 
breathed his last," Lord Albemarle records, **the 
Duke of Wellington, his executor, arrived at 
Windsor Castle, and was shown into the room in 
which the King lay. Left alone with the lifeless 
form of his late Sovereign, the Duke approached 
the bed, and then discovered round the King's 
neck a very dirty and much-worn piece of black 
ribbon. This the Duke, as he afterwards acknow- 
ledged, was seized with an irrepressible desire to 
draw out. When he had done so he found attached 
to it the jewelled miniature of Mrs Fitzherbert, 
which sufficiently accounted for the strange order 
given by the King about his burial." 

Thus King George carried to the grave the 
picture of his "beloved and adored wife, the wife 
of my heart and soul," as he described Mrs Fitz- 
herbert in his will — the wife whom he had loved 
so well and treated so ill. And that this was his 
wish is proved by the direction written some time 
before his death, that he should be laid to rest 
** with the picture of my beloved wife, Maria Fitz- 



A QUEEN WITHOUT A DIADEM 337 

Herbert, suspended round my neck with a ribbon, 
as I used to wear it when I Hved, and placed right 
upon my heart." 

For seven years Mrs Fitzherbert survived her 
husband, winning the love of all who knew her by 
her sweetness and her charity, and dying at Brighton 
on the 29th March 1837 at the advanced age of 
eighty-one. **She was not a clever woman," says 
Greville, ''but of a very noble spirit, disinterested, 
generous, honest and affectionate, greatly beloved 
by her friends and relations, popular in the world 
and treated with uniform distinction and respect 
by the Royal family." To the last she retained 
traces of the beauty which had conquered so many 
hearts. *' I remember well," the Hon. Grantly 
Berkeley says, '^ her delicately fair, yet command- 
ing features and gentle demeanour. That exquisite 
complexion she maintained, almost unimpaired by 
time, not only long after the departure of youth, 
but up to the arrival of old age ; and her manner, 
unaffected by years, was equally well preserved." 
She was, in short, to the last, " a woman who needed 
but a diadem to make her a Queen." 



INDEX 



Abaco, Baron von, 294 
Abercorn, Earl of, 30 
Adelaide, Madame, 184 
Albemarle, Earl of, 333, 336 
Albert, Archduke, 285 
Alexander, King of Servia, 220- 

232 
Alexei Petrovitch, 88-90, 93 
Angelo, 141 
Ankarstrom, 200 
Anjou, Due d', 235 
Anne of Austria, 57, 61, 142, 

143, 145, 233, 318 
Austrian Emperor (Joseph), 283- 

286, 291 
Avranches, Huet, Bishop of, 310 
Axford, Isaac, 1 59-161, 

Balbi, Comtesse de, 107 

Barbe, 14 

Bartlett, Miss, 161 

Barton, 159 

Bavaria, King of (Ludwig II.), 

69-84 
Beaujolais, Comte, 185 
Beaumarchais, M., 135, 136 
Beckford, Wm., 163 
Bedford, Duke of, 334 
Berkeley, Hon. Grantly, 337 
Berny, Marquis de, 26 
Berry, Duchesse de, 143 
Besson, M., 191 
Bohmer M., 47-50 
Bolton, 159 
Borghi, Countess Camilla, 171, 

176, 177 
Bossuet, Abbe, 66, 67 
Boulainvilliers, Marquis, 36, 

40 
— Marquise, 36, 39, 42 
Bourdelet, 311 -313 
Branitsky, Princess, 21 
Bridgman, Hon. Orlando, 331 
Brounker, 29, 30 
Brunswick, Duke of, 86 
Buckingham, Duke of, 60 

339 



Burgoyne, Sir John, 194-196 
Burt, Rev. Robert, 331 

Caroline, Queen, 166 

— of Brunswick, 330 
Carpenter, Lady Almeria, 121 
Castiglione, Countess, 295-306 

— Count, 296, 297 
Catherine II., 1-22, 310 
Cavour, 298, 300, 303 

Celle, Geo. Wm., Duke of, 246 
Chamillard, M. de, 142 
Charles I., 55 
Charles II., 24, 26, 59, 236, 237, 

243, 244 
Charles Augustus, King of 

Sweden, 313 
Charles Emanuel II., Duke of 

Savoy, 235, 242 
Charlotte Louise, Princess, 86- 

96 
Charlotte, Queen, 165, 166 
Chartres, Due de, 97, 98, 100 
Chatelet, Comte du, 130 
Chiappini, Maria Stella, 170-185 

— Signor, 179, 181 
Choiseul, Due de, 135 
Choisy, Madame de, 59 
Christina, Queen of Sweden, 

307-323 
Chudleigh, EHzabeth, 158 
Churchill, Arabella, 26 

— John, 26 

Cinq-Mars, Marquis de, 148, 

151 
Clarence, Duke of, 166 
Clement, Mary, 109- 112, 120, 

122 
Cleveland, Duchess of, 243 
Cole, Mrs, 141 
Colonna, Constable, 233, 239, 

240, 242 
Conti, Princesse de, 126 
Courberville, 240 
Cumberland, Duke ot, 118, 154 

— Duchess of, 121 



340 



INDEX 



Dalkeith, Lady, 55 

Dalton, Mr, 163 

D'Artois, Comte, 262, 267, 269, 

271 
D'Aubant, Chevalier, 92-96 

— Madame, 85, 94-96 
Dauphin, The, 262, 267 
Denmark, Queen of, 313 
D'Eon, Le Chevalier, 123-141 

— Louis, 124 

— Dame Frangoise, 124 
Descartes, 310 
Devonshire, Duchess of, 328, 

.329 
Dillon, Viscount, 33 
D'Olbreuse, Eleonore, 246 
Dolgornki, Princess, 13 
Dolma, Count of, 313 
D'Orleans, Due, 97, 102 
D'Ornano, Count, 219 
Douglas, Chevalier, 127 
Draga Maschin, 224-232 
Ducrest, Madame, 107 
Duroc, Grand Marshal, 209, 212 
D'Usson, 33 
Dysart, Earl of, 114 

Edinburgh, Duke of, 162 

Effiat, 68 

Egmont, Earl of, 168 

Elizabeth, Empress of Austria, 
126, 127 

Errington, Mr, 331 

Ernest Augustus, Duke of Han- 
over, 247, 248, 250 

Estancelin, General, 305 

Eugenie, Empress, 186-196 

Evans, Doctor, 191-194 

— Madame, 192, 193 
Evelyn, 31 
Evremond, Saint, 236, 243 



Fitzgerald, Lord Edward, 

101-106 
Fitzherbert, Mr Thomas, 325 

— Mrs, 166, 324-337 
Fleury, General, 301 
Forth, Mr, 98, 99 
Fox, Mr, 330-332 

— Mrs, 329 

Francis Ferdinand, Archduke, 

291 
Frederick the Great, 126 



Galvin, Countess, 13 

Genet, 21 

Genlis, Madame de, 97-100, 102, 

107, 185 
George Louis of Hanover 

(George L of England), 248- 

260 
George HL, 118-120, 153-167, 

33'^ 
George IV., 166, 326-337 
Georges, Saint, 140 
Gloucester, Duke of, 116-121, 

154, 202 

— Prince Frederick William, 
122 

— Duchess of, 11 7- 122 
Grafton, Duchess of, 122 
Grammont, 33 

Grande Demoiselle, The, 317, 

318 
Greville, 337 
Grimm, 5, 21 ^ 

Griscelli, 301 
Gudden, Dr, 82, 83 
Gudin, M., 135 
Guerchy, Comte de, 132, 134 
Guiche, Comte de, 60-63 
Guise, Duke of, 316, 317 
Gunning, Misses, 156, 324 
Gustavus Adolphus IL, 307 

— in, 197 

— IV., 197-203 

Hamilton, Count (George), 23, 

30 
Harbeler, Doctor von, 291, 294 
Henri 1 1., 36-38, 40 
Henrietta, Princess, 55-68 

— Maria, Queen, 56, 57 
Hersfeld, Madame, 92 
Hertford, Lady, 335 
Holland, Lord, 329 
Horton, Mrs, 118, 154 
Huntingtower, Lord, 114 

James II., 32 
Jennings, Frances, 23-35 

— Richard, 23 

— Sir John, 23 
Jermyn, Henry, 27, 28, 30 
Johann Salvator, Archduke, 283- 

294 
Joinville (Comte and Comtesse), 
176-180, 185 



INDEX 



341 



KiLLIGREW, 29 

Kendal, Duchess of, 250 
Kingsland, Viscount, 33 
Kingston, Duchess of, 158 
Konigsmarck, Count Philip von, 
247, 250-257 

— Countess, 91 
Kostich, Captain, 230 

Lacipiere, Major, 263 
Lamotte, Baron de, 41, 52 

— Baroness de, 41 -54 
Langes, M. Savalette de, 262, 

267-269 

— Henriette Jenny de, 261-273 
Le Breton, Madame, 189 
Lenoncourt, Sidonie de, 239 
Leopold, Grand Duke, 283 

Lia Mademoiselle, 127 
Lightfoot, Hannah, 153-167 
Ligne, Prince de, 18 
Longueville, Madame de, 26 
Lorraine, Chevelier de, 64, 65, 

68 
Louis XIIL, 143, 146 
Louis XIV., 30, 57, 60-68, 142, 

143, 145, 147, I49> 234, 235, 

241, 317,318 
Louis XV., 26, 40,95, 126, 128, 

133, 135, 143, 262 
Louis XVL, 51-53, 142, 262 
Louis Philippe, 183-185 
Louis Salvator, Archduke, 293 
Ludwig IL, King of Bavaria, 69- 

Lunyevitza, Nikola, 225 
Luitpold, Prince, 82 

Macaulay, 33 

Magnus, of Gardie, Count, 310 

Mancini, Hortense, 234-245 

— Marie, 239, 241, 318 

— Olympe, 244 

— Signora, 233 
Mann, Sir Horace, 169 
Mansfield, Lord, 131 

Marie Antoinette, 43-53, 137, 
142 

— Crown Princess of Bavaria, 
69 

— Theresa, Empress, 43 

Infanta, 58 

Mary, Princess, 122 

— Queen of Sweden, 308 



Marlborough, Duke of, 34 
Maschin, Colonel, 231 
Mazarin, Cardinal, 57, 142, 145, 
233-237 

— Due de, 237, 238, 242, 244, 
245 

Medicis, Catherine de, 37 
Meilleraye, Marechal de la, 

235, 237 
Metternich, Count, 189 
Milan, King of Servia, 220-223, 

228 
Milosh, Obrenovitch I., 225 
Monaldeschi, Marquis, 319-321 
Monmouth, Duke of, 143 
Montalais, Mademoiselle, 62 
Montpensier, Due de, 1184, 185 

— Duchesse de, loi 
Morel, Simon, 67 
Motteville, Mademoiselle, 317 
Miiller, Dr, 82, 83 

Napoleon L, 204-219 

— IIL, 187, 298-303 
Nathalie, Queen of Servia, 220, 

223, 224, 227, 228 
Newborough, Baron, 168-172 

— Maria Stella, Lady, 170-185 
Nigra, M., 189 

Nivernais, Due de, 130 
North, Lord, 119, 154 

Oettingen, Princess of, 86 
Oldoini, Marquis, 295 

— Marchioness, 296 
Orange, Prince of, 274-282 
Orleans, Duke of, 177-179, 182 

— Philippe, Duke of, 58-68 

— Henrietta, Duchess of, 58-68 
Orloff, Alexis, 6 

— Gregory, 4, 5,9 
Orth, Johann, 289-294 

Otto, Prince of Bavaria, 69-71, 

80 
Oxenstiern, Chancellor, 308 

Palatine, Madame la, 68 

Pamela, 97-108 

Patiomkin, 3-22 

Paul, Emperor, 22 

Pedro IL of Portugal, 236 

Pepys, 28 

Perryn, 158 

Peter, Emperor, 2 

Philippe, Duke of Orleans, 58 



342 



INDEX 



Piennes, Marquis de, 191 

Pimintelli, 310 

Pitcairn, 107 

Pitt, William, 163, 164 

Platen, Countess, 254-257 

Pompadour, Madame de, 142 

Poniatowski, 2, 207 

Porte, Armande de la, 234 

Portland, Duke of, 115 

Portsmouth, Duchess of, 243 

Price, Miss, 28 

Prince Imperial, The, 187, 196 

Prokesch, Count, 286 

QUEENSBERRY, Duke of, 140 

R , Comtesse de S , 

270-273 
Ramon, Don, 292 
Raikes, Mr, 333 
Rastoptshin, 21 
Rennie, Mr, 109, no 
Retz, Cardinal de, 56 
Rex, Mr George, 162 

— Mr John, 162 
Richelieu, Cardinal, 144, 148 

— Due de, 143 
Richmond, Duke of, 106-107 
Robinson, Mrs, 154 
Rochester, Earl of, 28 
Rohan, Prince Louis de, 42-52 
Rosse, Viscount, 33 
Rudolph, Crown Prince, 285 

St Fare, Abbe de, 178, 179 
Saint-Simon, 59, 67, 245 
Saxe, Marechal, 91, 95 
Schefszky, Fraulein, 76 
Schulenburg, Von, 250 
Sentinelli, Count, 319, 320 
Sevigne, Madame, 238 
Seymour, Lady Horatia, ^^^ 

— Hugh, 122 

— Mr, 99 

Shrewsbury, Lady, 25 
Simms, Mary 99 
Smith, Sir Sidney, 141 
Smythe, Sir John, 325 

— Jack, 331 
Sodermanland, Duke of, 198, 

201, 202 
Soissons, Chevalier de, 244 

— Comtesse de, 63, 233 
Sophia, Princess, 122 



Sophia of Brunswick, 158 

— Duchess of Hanover, 24, 26, 
29 

— Queen of Holland, 278-280 

— Magdalena, 197 

Sophie Charlotte, Princess, 74 

— Queen, 130 

— Dorothea, of Celle, 246-260 
Southampton, Lord, 328, 329 
Stourton, Lord, 328, 332 
Stuart, Miss, 26 

Stubel, Emilie, 287-290 

— Frau, 288-289 
Suremont, Madame de, 41, 42 

T , Jean Frangoise de, 268- 



270 

— Marquis de, 268 
Talbot, Dick, 27, 31-34 
Taylor, Ann, 163, 164 
Tuscany, Grand Duchess of, 

293, 294 
Tyrconnel, Earl of (Talbot), 31 

— Duke of, 33 

— Duchess of, 35 

Ungern - Sternberg, Baron 
Edward, 172 

Vallii^re, Louise de la, 61, 62 
Valois, De, Baron 37-39 

— Baroness, 37-39 

— Jacques, 40 

— Jeanne, 39-54 

— Marianne, 38, 40 
Vardes, Marquis de, 63-65 
Vassiltshikof, 5 

Vauban, Madame de, 210, 211 

Vendome, Due de, 142 

Victor Emmanuel, 297, 298, 

303 
Voltaire, i, 3, 149 

Wagner, 75 

Waldegrave, James, Earl, 115 

— Countess, 115-119, 122, 154 
Wales, Prince of, 140, 154, 165 
Walewska, Alexander, 218 

— Anastase de W., 206 

— Count, 296 

— Madame, 204-219, 304 
Waliszewski, 13 
Waller, 243 

Walpole, Charlotte, 114 



INDEX 



343 



Walpole, Edward, 110-112 

— Horace, 34, 35, 113, 

133, 153 

— Laura, 112, 113 

— Marie, 112, 113 

— Sir Robert, no 
Weld, Mr Edward, 325 
Wellington, Duke of, 336 
White Milliner, The, 34 
Wilkes, Lord Mayor, 135 

— Miss, 132 
William of Orange, 33 

— in. of Holland, 274-282 



Wilmot, Dr, 163-165 
114, — Olive, 165 

Woronzoff, Countess Catherine, 
128 

Yamagata, Marshal, 292 
Yarborough, Earl of, 141 
York, Duchess of, 24, 25, 27, 

28, 31 
— Duke of, 24-26, 31, 166 

Zakrievska, Prascovia, 15 
Zavadofsky, 11 



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